Stuck in the Middle
by Fatiguesdualism
Summary: Following on from Three Small Words, an alternate to the Mass Effect 3 tale that Bioware gave us. Starts at the close of 'Arrival' DLC. All copy-righted/protected materials etc still belong with Bioware. Rated M for language (and I'm chicken!)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sequel-ish to 'Three Small Words' you don't have to read it but I am not above touting for traffic for my other story. Oh and all copy-righted/protected materials that belong to Bioware/some-one else, still belong to Bioware/some-one else.

Mass Effect 3 'Stuck in the Middle'

**Bahak System**

Joker, EDI and Shepard had come to the Bahak system to investigate a lead from the fragmented data that the AI had retrieved from the Collector Base during their escape. Records that showed something had been hidden in the system but which had been recently disturbed. They had hoped it would prove to be an archive, a back-up for the information contained in the Collector Base and which was now in the hands of Cerberus. They had been right and wrong, whilst it had been an archive containing the information they wanted. It had also been pure Reaper technology, without the Prothean based interface to reduce the effects of indoctrination. Prior to the Normandy's arrival an Alliance covert research team had installed a series of thrusters and mass effect generators on the asteroid before they had succumbed to the artefact's indoctrination. Their original intention had been to alter the asteroid's flight when it passed near the system's Mass Relay and then use the relay to send it to an unclaimed and uninhabited star system where they could analyse the artefact fully and without the threat of the Batarian Hegemony detecting them then executing them as spies. The plan had been in the final stages when the Batarians had captured Doctor Amanda Kenson, the project leader, whilst she was transporting the last shipment of element zero. Being an uninvited human in Batarian space had been enough to see her imprisoned being caught smuggling refined eezo had resulted in what the Batarians referred to as 'interrogation'.

The commander had successfully rescued Doctor Kenson from the prison and the two had used a commandeered Batarian shuttle to reach the rest of her team. They had spent the flight conversing about the doctor's plan, Shepard had felt awe at first at the audacity but as the conversation progressed he had become uneasy. There was almost a fanaticism within the doctor, which when coupled with an unwillingness to listen to Shepard's concerns made him wary. When the two had finally arrived at the hidden base the now completely indoctrinated personnel had promptly attacked them. Alone, Shepard had escaped from the hangar but was finally cornered in the base's medical section. Only the arrival of a Batarian patrol, responding to the prison breakout, had given Shepard the chance to escape alive. After that it had been a nightmare whirl of mayhem and destruction as the Batarian soldiers and the indoctrinated project staff had fought whilst hunting the commander. In desperation Shepard had activated the asteroid's engines, he couldn't, wouldn't, entrust the Reaper artefact and the information it held into the hands of the Batarian Hegemony.

In the end though, all Shepard had achieved was a catastrophic failure, the Batarian's attempts to seize control had resulted in the destruction of the engine controls and most of the asteroid's combatants. Shepard had made his way to the project control centre from there he had hoped to use the project's mainframe to create and transmit a relay transit calculation. Only to find the centre's computers already destroyed by Doctor Kenson who had resolved to ensure the artefact's annihilation. Shepard would never be sure if her callous disregard for the system's three hundred thousand inhabitants, who would be killed by the energy released by a Mass Relay's destruction, was a symptom of her struggle against Reaper indoctrination or whether it was plain human indifference. Either way the thing that had confronted him in the control room hadn't been Amanda Kenson anymore. The monster that had taunted him and raved about the imminent arrival of the Reapers was not the person he had conversed with on the shuttle. Shepard had left the control room alone, the sole survivor of asteroid 157-Golgotha and his last chance of remaining so had mandated a space walk to the project's communication dish.

**Asteroid 157-Gologtha**

Shepard finished linking his communicator to the much larger transmitter dish that loomed over his head and which obscured his view of the near-by Mass Relay. He quickly checked the connection. The work was crude and basic, any engineer would have disapproved. His tech instructors from his academy days would have failed it and probably have thought it necessary to order a completely new dish to replace the one he had just butchered, whilst Tali would have… Shepard stopped that train of thought, his nightmares would have to wait, and after his actions today he was due plenty more. Shepard activated his communicator; the message would be broadcasted in all directions and unencrypted, but it would have to do. Time was fast becoming an issue. "Normandy, this is Shepard. I need a pick-up ASAP."

For several seconds there was only silence then, thankfully, it was replaced by the confused sounding voice of Joker, the Normandy's helmsman. "Err, commander you do know that you just told the entire _batarian_ populated system that we're here, right? I mean, I thought the purpose of a _covert_ _mission_ was to _not_ tell people who we are?"

"Normandy, save the wise-cracks for later. We need to get out of the system, right now."

"Well you got that right commander 'cause about an hour ago an asteroid changed course somehow, so now in about eight minutes it's going to smash into…" Joker's voice trailed off then returned in a despairing tone, "…You're on the asteroid aren't you?"

"Correct."

"…We're moving ETA, probably less than eight minutes, hopefully."

"Sooner would be better Normandy."

"Well gee maybe if you hadn't left the _whole crew_ on Omega, they could have repaired some of the damage from our last little trip. You know, some-time during the past _three days_ me and EDI have spent skulking around up here."

"If you can't make it in time Normandy, just go. Leave me."

Joker made an exasperated noise, "Pfft right, and then when I get back to the others they'll be drawing straws to see who gets to kill me. Dying in a super-nova would be a hell of a lot less painful than what Garrus or Miranda would do to me, definitely be quicker anyways."

Shepard was suddenly glad that he was the only living thing on the asteroid, his sudden flinch when his friend mentioned Miranda had proved sufficient in the low gravity to send him slowly drifting. Shepard knew that sooner or later that he and Miranda would have to talk about the events back on the Collector base as well as Jack's final words, he just needed more time to sort out his own feelings first. The commander's anchor cable pulled taut, arresting his drift and Shepard focused back on his current problem. "Normandy we're about to lose the channel, my suit's damaged and I need to move. Trace this signal and pick me up from the top of the antenna, repeat top of the antenna, literally."

EDI replied instead of Joker, the AI's voice as calm and collected as it always sounded. "I have traced your signal Shepard and provided Jeff with the necessary co-ordinates. I calculate our transit time at 5 minutes, 19 seconds." There was a slight pause then her voice returned, "I calculate our new transit time will be 4 minutes, 36 seconds."

Shepard grinned for the first time in what felt like a month, "Understood Normandy, Shepard out." He looked at the tangle of wires and circuitry that linked his space-suit with the larger transmitter and tore into them. The painfully delicate wiring, bypasses and patches that had frustrated him whilst creating the link, took only a handful of seconds to rip apart. That done he lined up with the top of the communication dish detached his anchor from the metalwork and pushed off, drifting upwards. Keeping his body parallel to the superstructure that held the transmitter, and using the ubiquitous safety grips to control his speed and direction, the commander travelled swiftly keeping his gaze determinedly fixed on the terrain ahead of him and not on the swiftly enlarging Mass Relay. Shepard slowed as he neared the top of the communication dish, bringing himself to a graceful stop when he arrived which allowed him to swing himself perpendicular and crouch with his boots now touching the metalwork as well. Now all he could do was hope and wait.

It wasn't long before he saw the Normandy, Joker had dropped the ship out of FTL ridiculously close to the asteroid and the flare from her bow thrusters illuminated her entire descent slowing the ship down until she hung, stationery, about a dozen metres in front of the crouched commander. Shepard was once again impressed with the skill of his pilot he hadn't seen a single correction during the entire manoeuvre it was as if Joker had planned and rehearsed for months for this exact situation, not cobbled it together with no warning and in a couple of minutes. The airlock door in the Normandy's flank slid open, now it was Shepard's turn to fly. He shifted slightly, ran a rough calculation through his head and using the strength of his legs threw himself off the communication dish towards the waiting ship. Three seconds into his flight and Shepard realised he had miscalculated, his angle was off and instead of drifting squarely into the middle of the Normandy's airlock the commander was instead going to clip the upper edge first. Shepard cursed and readied himself, this was going to hurt. His outstretched hands reached the Normandy first and in that split second he clung onto the hull and pivoted himself into the airlock, where the Normandy's artificial gravity conspired with his existing momentum to wrench him free and send him crashing into the inner airlock door and then onto the deck. Shepard swore again, and waited for the green light by the door to activate telling him that the chamber had been re-pressurised and he could enter the Normandy proper. Until then he felt like he could just lie on the floor and curse some more.

The green light flashed brightly twice, the light illuminating the entire airlock claiming Shepard's attention before settling to a constant steady glow. The commander tiredly got to his feet and hurried to the bridge, the external microphone detecting Joker's voice and relayed it to him through his ear-piece.

"…Approaching relay in 4, 3, 2…"

Shepard grabbed the back of Joker's chair, relay transitions could become turbulent if rushed and the commander believed that he had been bounced off the deck enough for one day. The stars outside merged into the glow that accompanied all relay travel, then separated into new positions. They had escaped, they where safe. Shepard looked down to congratulate the pilot then hurriedly flicked his gaze back to the stars outside. In a surprising level voice the commander asked, "Joker where are your pants, and why are you sitting with a damn beach towel on your chair?"

**Hagalaz System (5 weeks later)**

Shepard felt the jolt of the shuttle landing through his seat, which he used as his cue to power down the small craft's systems. The silence that followed pulled at the commander and just for a second he paused and tried to relax. But it was no good, as soon as he stilled the doubts came swarming, the extranet was flooded with reports and speculation about the destruction of the Bahak system. The sole concrete fact was the presence of one Lieutenant-Commander Shepard who had escaped from an asteroid shortly before it had crashed into the Mass Relay and obliterated the system. The Batarians had promptly blamed the Systems Alliance, demanded that Shepard stand trial in a Batarian court and posted one of the largest bounties ever seen for the capture of Shepard and the Normandy. Between avoiding the Batarian military, evading what Shepard assumed where Cerberus teams hunting for the Illusive Man's badly damaged but still very expensive rogue starship and eluding what seemed to be every third bounty hunter in the known galaxy, the trio aboard the Normandy had little chance to rest or refute the accusations. Their single transmitted message sent to the infamous Shadow Broker had somehow summoned a Batarian carrier that had dogged them for four days. The resulting heat build-up combined with the damaged thermal sink had transformed the Normandy into a sweltering misery and almost saw Joker's clothing optional policy make a return.

The quick release for the pilot seat restraints seemed to resist Shepard's efforts forcing him to focus, his fatigue was transforming the routine into a challenge. The doubts, ignored for now, settled. Shepard knew he needed help that was why he had returned to the remote, storm wracked planet. The partial information the Normandy crew had extracted from the Collector's database during their escape needed distribution and analysis before Cerberus could use their access to the full archive to gain an advantage over the rest of the galaxy. Shepard was aware that his connection with Cerberus made him suspicious to the Council's eyes and recent events would have done nothing to reassure them. The commander needed the Shadow Broker's resources to launder the data and Shepard needed Liara, ever since Miranda had shared her medical logs detailing the extremes she had gone to restore him there had been an unspoken question in his mind. Miranda had realised that, she had given him reassurances which with time and his own experiences he had accepted. He had come to trust her, more than that he had fallen in love with her. But after the events of the Collector Base, that question had resurfaced and the trust had become questionable. The love was still there, somehow, but now the uncertainty twisted that emotion into something that now strengthened those doubts instead. If there was one other person left in the galaxy who could help him with that question it was Liara T'Soni, the problem was the last time they had spoken things had become confrontational and had left their changed relationship feeling even more fraught. In such an atmosphere Shepard had no idea on how he could ask her for the reassurance he badly wanted.

Shepard activated the hatch release, stepped out of the shuttle and onto the deck of the Shadow Broker's ship. As usual the cargo bay was deserted, populated only by the anonymous shipping crates that carried in the supplies Liara needed. The air was colder than he remembered, or maybe it was because he felt tired. He hurried across to the door that led further into the ship, but which this time refused to open. He tried the controls again then entered the access code Liara had provided during his last visit which resulted in the display flashing red before shutting down. Shepard heard the locking bars slide into place, sealing the cargo bay, and tapped his ear-piece.

"EDI, contact Liara again and ask her to_ let me out of this cargo bay_." The commander felt his breathing become ragged, the air rasping at his throat. He was on a knife-edge, furious over the simple malfunction of a door. It took him a moment to realise the Normandy's AI hadn't responded, "EDI?" There was only static on the communication channel. Shepard started moving back towards the shuttle, his eyes scanning around him, realising now that the scattered shipping containers created too many blind spots to have occurred purely randomly. A glimpse of movement drew his attention as a small palm sized white disc sailed through the air before landing a few feet in front of him. Shepard whirled away, opened his mouth wide, closed his eyes and then covered them with his hands. Without armour it was all he could do to protect himself from the effects of the flash-bang. The explosive crack from the grenade left the commander deafened, leaning against a shipping crate and feeling dizzier than the first time he had tried sharing a glass of ryncol with Wrex. Shepard started counting and got to two when the grenade's flash turned the darkness of his protected vision into a red glow; he lowered his hands and opened his eyes. There where three attackers, one standing further off and at an angle that allowed them a clear aim at Shepard with a pistol whilst the other two closed in with batons, the tactics numbers and equipment where all straight out of the Systems Alliance N7 field manual. Shepard pushed himself away from the container with his left hand and stretched the other in front of him, it wasn't Shakespeare but Shepard hoped it would convince them that he was blind, he needed an advantage.

The first of the two baton wielding marines stepped in reaching for Shepard's outstretched arm, but the commander whipped it away and then reversed the momentum to kick the surprised Marine's legs out from under him. The second marine then attacked, flicking his baton towards Shepard's knee, only for it to break Shepard's wrist instead as the commander brought his arm around to block. Shepard planted his other hand against the marine's visor and rushed him into the side of a shipping container, then slammed the marine's head against it a couple of times for good measure. The second marine slid to the ground, he was probably only stunned but Shepard hoped that was enough, he turned back to face the one he had kicked to the floor just as they got back up. A quick glance showed him the third still holding their ground with their pistol in hand; according to the manual that one would be the squad leader. The one who would have to decide whether or not to use lethal force should it appear that Shepard might escape. Shepard felt he had two options, turn and flee then hope he could out-run two fit and probably enraged marines whilst he was still unbalanced from the stun grenade, provided they didn't just shoot him in the back. Or fight and with one hand try to capture the closest then use him as a hostage till Shepard reached the shuttle. A sane, ignored, part of his mind provided a third option. But the snatch squad had obviously managed to coerce Liara and Feron, somehow, into not warning the commander of his assailants' presence and for that Shepard had no intention of letting them win.

Shepard charged forward, brushing aside a half-hearted jab from the baton, and received a punishing left hook to his face instead which staggered him. The baton was swung again this time hitting Shepard's side, but the marine was too close now and the blow would only leave a bruise. Shepard's left arm shot out, grabbed the marine's baton wielding arm by the wrist twisted it into a lock and stepped in closer. His opponent tried to free his arm only to be surprised when the motion assist motors in his armour proved insufficient against Shepard's strength; a hurried rabbit-punch to the commander's kidney was foiled by an elbow strike from Shepard's injured arm. For a second the two combatants stood motionless as they strained against one another, then the marine's helmeted face snapped forward and the commander's vision dissolved, his eyes swiftly filling with tears as the marine's armoured head-butt smashed his nose. But it wasn't enough with a final surge Shepard unbalanced his opponent and threw him to the ground. It was then the commander realised his hearing had returned as the marine let out a howl of pain as Shepard's joint lock caused the ligaments and tendons of the marine's shoulder to rip and tear apart as he fell. Shepard released his grip, with extensive surgery and intense physical therapy the marine should regain the use of his ruined arm, but for now he was out of the fight and essentially dead weight.

The other two marines hadn't moved one was still slumped on the ground whilst the second aimed their gun at the commander from a safe distance. As angry as Shepard was he realised it was too far for him storm across without taking fire, and as well-tailored as Kasumi's present was it still wouldn't stop mass accelerator rounds. He raised his hands, wincing at the pain, and slowly stepped back, if he could just make it to the corner of the container on his right.

The marine stepped lightly after Shepard, maintaining the same distance whilst the pistol never wavered. "Don't," the marine warned.

Shepard swallowed, "You're not going to shoot me," he needed maybe a dozen more steps. "Your orders are to take me in alive," ten more steps, "otherwise your two friends wouldn't have been as nice." The gun dropped down, and Shepard lowered his arms, "Tell the others to let Liara and her friend go," he was at the corner.

Shepard's feet left the ground as the pull from a biotic singularity lifted him up into the air and away from the shelter offered by the shipping container, before it slammed him back down against the floor. As Shepard stirred the biotic repeated the sequence, then again. The commander's vision was tunnelling as he tried to pull himself along the deck. He had no plan or weapons and no allies to call upon, he had no destination, it was a pointless act of defiance and it was all he had left. Motion claimed his attention and he saw her, the white lab coat and that memorised blue face. A face with a grim look of anger, despite the streaming tears, as she held her arm stretched out in front of her in an oh-so familiar gesture that he had seen countless number of times. But which had never once been directed at him.

The final marine knelt next to Shepard and snapped the cuff of a restraint around his good wrist. Shepard didn't struggle as they drew it to the small of his back then, as gently as they could, moved his injured arm as well before placing the second cuff around his broken wrist. The marine lingered for a second then told him, "Sorry Skipper."

It was too much Shepard let his eyes close.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **FNG is abbreviation for Fucking New Guy (if any one was wondering)

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**Earth, Russian Federation**

The prisoner shuffled in, it was the only way he could walk whilst wearing a full set of manacles. The prison clothing was the usual day-glow orange that had been in use for hundreds of years now, but instead of the usual stencilled prisoner number on the left breast, the two men waiting at the table glimpsed the name 'Shepard'. There was silence as Shepard sat across from them, broken only by the clinking of the prisoner's chains as his escort secured them to the table. The three waited for the guards to leave the room, the sound of the door closing acted as a signal to begin.

The man seated on the left spoke first, gesturing to the man sat next to him, "Hey commander, this is Mr Kay." the speaker's eyes rolled at the moniker, "He's from ASIO, and he's here to ask you a few questions."

Shepard started to drum his fingers against the table's surface, "You're not supposed to call me that anymore, James. I'm in prison, no rank allowed." He looked at the second man, "A spook from the Alliance Security & Intelligence Organisation wants to ask me questions. What happened, did you clowns lose the notes from all those other Q&A sessions?" The commander kept his voice low, almost growling.

If either man felt intimidated by the anger in Shepard's voice they both hid it well. The second man, Mr Kay, tapped at the pad in front of him before speaking. "Actually Jean, can I call you that? Jean?"

Shepard's fingers stopped their drumming, "No."

Mr Kay gave a small smile, "Commander then. I am here to get your opinion on some recent events. As you may be aware the information you provided us has allowed my organisation, along with the Systems Alliance Military, and several of our alien allies to seriously disrupt the terrorist group Cerberus. Dozens of the Illusive Man's top operatives are either now in our custody or dead and much of his funding has been stopped."

The first speaker, James, stirred, "Christ, he's in solitary not isolation. He gets to read the news _Mr Kay_."

For the blink of an eye Shepard saw a look of complete loathing cloud Mr Kay's face at the interruption. But when he resumed speaking there was no trace of emotion in the ASIO agent's voice. "Of course Lieutenant Vega, as I was saying, Cerberus is falling apart commander. We already have reports of elements leaving and trying to distance themselves from the core organisation. It is one of these new groups that I am hoping you can help us with." Mr Kay slid the pad in front of him across the desk towards Shepard. "Do you know this person?"

Shepard had to stretch to reach the pad, "Jacob Taylor, he was on the Normandy with me when we stopped the Collectors." Shepard tossed the pad across to James, "ASIO should have a file on him, thought he used to work for you as a Corsair."

Lieutenant James Vega looked up from the pad, "What's a corsair?"

Mr Kay grimaced, "A code word project that you are not cleared for Lieutenant Vega. I am afraid I will have to ask you to step outside."

James Vega looked between the two men then sighed, "Super-spook stuff right? This is getting old commander." He stood up, walked over to the door and tapped on it for the guards' attention, "When you're done we need to talk about your court-martial."

As soon as the door had closed again, Shepard spoke. "The Corsairs project was disbanded years ago, Spook. What's your real reason for chasing my lawyer out of the room?"

Mr Kay smiled it was cold and harsh with nothing to suggest joy or merriment. With the agent's dark eyes it was the quintessential shark's grin. "Mr Taylor has left his former employer, taking with him several valuable assets. I am interested in finding him, but he has proven resourceful enough to make that task exceedingly difficult and I have many pressing demands on my time." The ASIO agent's fingers tapped a short staccato beat, "In fact my most urgent task is to arrange the retrieval of the Normandy from the secure Alliance ship-yard at Arcturus station. The Illusive Man was truly vexed when EDI started disclosing the information contained in its secure databases, but he accepts it was an act of self-preservation. Had the Alliance discovered that EDI was a true AI and not merely an advanced VI? They undoubtedly would have destroyed it. Thankfully our other assets have proven sufficient to protect our most vital operations." Mr Kay stretched, "Which is why I am here. My assault force will neutralise the security at Arcturus station and I foresee no great problems in securing the dock itself. But if EDI, out of some misplaced loyalty to yourself and the Alliance, attempted to resist our efforts to fly the Normandy out, well that could create difficulties. Normally I would use hostages to secure someone's compliance, but EDI appears to only have an emotional attachment to your cripple pilot and yourself. You're in a maximum security prison which would leave me with only the one, fragile, hostage, not enough." That same shark smile returned, "But then I spent some time with Miranda Lawson, you remember her, and she…_persuaded _me that you could be relied upon."

Shepard exploded into motion it was only the chains that stopped his lunge across the table. His chair clattered to the floor.

Mr Kay's smile bloomed into something with real, but ugly, human emotion in it, "Cerberus is grateful to you for giving us the Collector Base, Jean, but the Illusive Man no longer believes that you would be an asset to our cause. A view-point I shared, it took Miranda _a_ _lot_ of time and effort before she could change my mind. But, as you must know, she can be very…charming."

Shepard ground his words out, "What…Do…You…Want?"

Mr Kay relaxed further into his chair, "Your co-operation of course. Should you choose so, I would see to your release from," his hand gestured around the room, "here. Then after helping me return the Normandy to its rightful owner, you would be free to continue your." Kay paused, "Free to continue whatever it is you actually do. There are so many more Mass Relays you could destroy after all. I could even provide a list if you asked me, nicely."

The commander placed his hands flat on the table before him, glaring at the lounging Cerberus operative, "You have a funny way of asking for my help, even for a FNG."

Kay's hand slapped against the table, "Yes or no commander, I want your decision. Now."

Shepard just smiled down at the man sitting across from him, a second passed, then another before he asked, "I'm guessing if I say no, I wouldn't be allowed out of this room alive?"

Mr Kay grimaced, "Today you are too unimportant for me to kill, Jean. If you are so stupid as to refuse, we would simply ensure you're transferred to isolation. After a few days there, nothing you could tell anyone would be any threat to us. But that would leave you as some shackled relic, forgotten in the Siberian tundra, scratching at the walls of your little cell till the day the Reapers arrive and melt you down into paste."

"I thought Cerberus planned to save humanity from the Reapers. Or haven't you Muppets been able to devise one yet?"

The shark smile returned and the venom positively dripped from his words as Mr Kay told him, "Even our best projections have casualties Jean. I would take great pleasure in ensuring that you were one of them."

"That's cute, cupcake." Then Shepard gave a rueful laugh, "But as you say I don't have any better options. _If_ you can get me out of here, then I'll help you steal the Normandy, after that we go our separate ways."

Mr Kay frowned, "Understand Jean, if I ever doubt your intentions then I will kill you, as painfully and slowly as possible. If you run, I will torture your friends before feeding their broken remains to hungry Vorcha. Try to hide and I will track down anyone you have ever even spoken to and slowly carve your name into their flesh before killing them. I am much better than you in every single way." The agent's fingers quickly repeated the staccato beat he had performed earlier. "Thank you for your time commander," his voice had changed it was warmer now, friendlier; there was even a faint, polite smile on his lips. "I may have more questions in a couple of days. I assume you have no objections to my visiting you again?"

Shepard said nothing and after a couple of seconds the ASIO agent stood and walked over to the room's sole door. It wasn't until the guards outside had opened it and Mr Kay was departing that the commander spoke, his voice clear and loud, "Tell your superiors not to send the copy-boy next time they need my help. It's insulting."

Mr Kay left and Lieutenant Vega walked back into the room. "Wow, commander," he joked as he restored Shepard's seat, "with people skills like that it's surprising you're in solitary. I take it that story about you talking an entire crazy biotic commune into surrendering peacefully is just more rumour mill BS then?"

Shepard waited until James had returned to the other side of the table before he sat down, "No that actually did happen, James, they where mostly good folk in a shitty situation. Mr Kay, however, is like one of those tiny, smooth-haired, crazy, yappy dogs that come from your neck of the woods, what do they call them?"

"Chihuahuas, commander, and they're from Mexico not New York."

"Earth's Earth, James, sorry if I can't remember every little back-water town on it." Shepard grinned, "It may be a shock, brace yourself, but not everyone sees your home planet as the centre of the galaxy. Anyway Kay is a mad little Chihuahua, some-one needs to discipline him or he'll never be house-broken."

"Fucking spacer kids," Vega shot back, but he was grinning as he said it, "always trying to talk down to all us poor folks with a real home and proper food." The two men grinned widely for a moment, both completely at ease in one another's company. Eventually the lieutenant opened a file on his pad, "Well the good news is that your friend Admiral Hackett finally got the nod from the parliamentary defence committee. From next Monday he becomes the First Admiral, Commander of the entire Systems Alliance Navy. Word in the JAG corps is that he feels six months has been more than enough time for the prosecution to build a case, especially after the inquiry board sent you here, and Hackett is going to order them to either go to court-martial or drop the charges." The lieutenant paused, "That's good for us, 'coz the prosecution doesn't have a strong case for the charges relating to Bahak. The Batarians have refused to co-operate with, or release _any_ information to, their investigation. The Council has _never_ disclosed the activities of their Spectres in a legal environment they don't control. Plus Cerberus is a terrorist organisation, meaning they've co-operated less than the Batarians have. Your log entries and Joker's testimony both support your version of events. All the prosecution has is the media reports with that message you sent, that only places you in system. Anything else is speculative, I can handle that."

Shepard interrupted, "How's Joker doing?"

"He's doing fine, commander. Told me to tell you he's sorry he clearly forgot about those super-super-secret orders he had from Hackett to infiltrate Cerberus. Blames it on all the constant vodka-martinis he must have been drinking which he also forgot, but if you ever need to infiltrate anywhere he has an invisible tux you can borrow."

"If this court-martial goes sideways I may need that tuxedo."

"Please, a little faith here, I'm fantastic at my job." Vega's grin faded, "Seriously though it's the lesser charges I'm sweating. I can beat the murder raps and leave the prosecution look like idiots whilst doing so, that's why they've kept stalling for six months. But the politics of all this, man, judge and jury won't want to start something with the Batarians so they can't let you walk out completely vindicated. That's where the prosecution will try to fuck with us. Problem is charges like 'Conduct Unbecoming' etc are vague enough for the jurors' consciences to vote guilty even if they're not certain. Then the judge will probably impose the maximum tariff."

"How bad?"

"Worst case? Well I will beat the murder raps but if I lose on most of the smaller crap? Three years spent in the brig and a dishonourable discharge." The lieutenant hurried on, "More likely, time already served. But that dishonourable discharge, it's going to be the prosecution's goal. Even if I beat the court-martial. The parliament, the admiralty, they want you out. They'll keep gunning for you till they succeed."

"Well if they keep it to only figuratively gunning for me, I'll manage. Hell I won't even take them off my Christmas card list."

"Well what parliament and the admiralty does, that's way above my pay grade I'm just here to save your ass in court. Which will likely be sometime this month so dig out your blues and make sure they still fit." Vega stood, "You're Commander Shepard, sole survivor of Akuze, first human Spectre, saviour of the Citadel Council and the man who ended the Collector Abductions. Make sure they remember that and then we'll see if they have the cojones to try and kick you out of the service."

* * *

**A/N: **Well there we are an explanation for how Vega & Shepard know each other (bye bye 'Meathead Vega') plus an introduction for 'Mr Kay' (no prizes for guessing who he's meant to be) and it only took about two thousand words (gulp!). Honestly not sure if the whole '_persuaded' _to 'charming' section really works (it's basically supposed to convey K as claiming 'I'm dicking your bird' just, you know, with K trying to be more subtle/classy. _Innuendo_ that's the word). Anyway if your one of the few souls who likes the MShep/Miri relationship you now have an extra reason to dislike K, if not just dislike him because he's an immature ass! Mind you so is this version of Shep (hopefully he's more charming than K though!) Also woo-hoo! finished a chapter where Shepard hasn't had his arse handed to him (that's Shep 1: Rest of Galaxy 2, if you're interested!)


	3. Chapter 3

ME3 Tale 2.2

**Earth, Russian Federation**

It had been three days since Shepard had talked to Vega and Mr Kay and those three days had felt nearly as long his first week in the Alliance's Siberian maximum security prison. The facility had been constructed mostly underground, in a galaxy with FTL travel, almost effortless orbital access and thousands of shuttle flights each day, it was the most cost-effective way to deter rescue from the outside. The main access point to the prison was a large shuttle hangar, which had the space to hold a small freighter but which was only ever populated by a few Kodiak type shuttles The shuttle Shepard was shuffling towards wasn't one of the vehicles kept in the hangar, it was another Kodiak, painted in the same Alliance blue and white paint scheme as the others, but the cannons mounted on either side of the cockpit gave it away. None of the other shuttles there where armed. Shepard climbed inside.

"Hey commander," It was Lieutenant Vega his defence councillor, "nice day for a trip into space right?" The four guards escorting Shepard didn't take the surprise appearance of an extra passenger well demanding, with various degrees of hostility, an explanation. Vega shot back, "A parliamentary select committee suddenly orders that my most important defendant appear before them? Guess what? I'm going to tag along, if only to make sure he doesn't say anything stupid that fucks his court-martial." The lieutenant sounded annoyed, "Plus why is it I have to hear about this from the committee secretary and not from my client eh?" Shepard's guards where equipped with hard-suits, pistols and collapsible batons, Vega was wearing only his dress blues and a furious expression on his face. The guards backed down. "Damn straight," Vega muttered.

Shepard ended sat facing aft, his back against the bulkhead that separated the cockpit from the payload area and flanked by two of the prison guards. Across from him was another guard, Vega and a neatly folded brown parcel. The remaining guard went into the cockpit to take the co-pilot's seat. Shepard felt the familiar, stomach-twisting, sensation of a powerful mass effect field washing over him, as the pilot engaged the shuttle's mass effect generator. Followed by a gentle pressure trying to push him into the crash restraints of his seat as the shuttle accelerated out of the hangar and up into space.

Vega broke the silence, "Got a change of clothes, commander." His hand patted the brown parcel sat next to him. "Dress blues, got to look smart in front of all those cameras."

Shepard lifted his shackled hands off his lap the chain that connected them to the band across his waist prevented them from moving too far. Then he moved his feet, drawing Vega's attention to the leg irons he was wearing. "Could be difficult, James."

Vega spoke to the leader of the prison escort, "Un-cuff him." The guard refused, citing protocol. Vega spoke again, "Prisoner transport protocol also states that: any non convicted detainee, when appearing in a setting where the wearing of prison issue garb may adversely impact any pending legal proceedings, retains the right to wear Alliance uniform." His voice hardened, "_In such instances said individual's uniform shall be transported with them._ I don't see you carrying a spare issue of dress blues. Now take the chains off before I decide to make your life miserable."

The cowed guard nodded to one of his colleagues, who started to remove the manacles.

"Err, it's a little crowded here James," Shepard noted.

Vega grinned, "What? Are you shy? Get dressed before some picture hunting cabronazo on Arcturus gets a picture of your famous ass, in orange."

* * *

**Alliance Shuttle, Arcturus System**

The new dress uniform was a good fit, Shepard thought, maybe a little tighter across the midriff and across the shoulders than he recalled his old uniform ever being. But it still felt right he was an Alliance officer again. Not a prisoner, or a Cerberus experiment, or a Council Spectre, he was Lieutenant Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance Navy. It had been a long time since he had felt that sense of identity, the events of recent years had eroded away at it, the questions of others had chipped at it and at times his own choices had tarnished it. At least Miranda had always claimed she really wanted to… His mood darkened, it had been over half a year since he had last seen her. He had purposely tried to avoid thinking about her whilst in prison. Tried and failed, repeatedly. The blue-eyed brunette and his emotions where just too entangled. He needed something to distract him.

"Hey, commander, Earth to Arcturus in under twenty minutes? Someone must have listed us as 'priority' on the traffic control system." It was Vega, not as enticing as Miranda, but talking to him would stop Shepard's brain from running around in circles thinking about her.

"Parliament says now, the fleet has to drop everything and jump through hoops…" Shepard's voice stopped as all three prison guards suddenly jolted before slumping into their seats, their eyes staring blankly at the two officers. Vega and Shepard hurriedly checked the three men for a pulse or signs of life. Vega swore when they found none, then was interrupted by the sound of gunshots coming from the cockpit. Lieutenant James Vega was a JAG lawyer, but he was also a Marine. When Shepard signalled he wanted Vega to guard the starboard hatch, the lieutenant secured a sidearm from the deceased guards, crouched, and then aimed at the hatch. Shepard took the remaining two pistols and trained them on the port hatch.

The starboard hatch hissed open, the final prison guard stood there pistol in hand. Shepard heard Vega bellow a warning, but the commander didn't bother waiting. He turned and opened fire. The commander had always held a low opinion of the standard issue Predator pistol, against a target without shields or armour it was effective. But if you where unlucky enough to face anyone with those advantages he had always joked that you might as well throw it at them. In reality though it wasn't as useless as he made out it, you just needed a lot of rounds to drop your target, which was why he was wielding two.

The guard's shields emitted the tell-tale blue sparks that denoted deflected rounds, as Shepard fired as fast as he could, those that weren't deflected or sufficiently slowed chipped away at armour. Vega started shooting and the extra fire overwhelmed the guard's shields, more rounds started punching into armour, then they passed through. The guard collapsed and the two officers ceased firing.

"Check on the pilot," Shepard ordered, still aiming at the collapsed prison guard, "he may still be alive." It was unlikely, both men knew, but the Alliance had an unofficial creed and they had to be sure. Vega nodded and stepped around the commander, taking care not to obstruct his aim. He moved to the port-side hatch and entered the cockpit. Shepard juggled the two guns he was holding, keeping one trained on the downed guard, whilst ejecting the thermal clip from the other, then dropping it onto one of the shuttle seats. Then he stepped through the starboard hatch, he saw Vega checking the pilot for a pulse but even from the hatchway Shepard could see it was pointless. The guard had put two rounds into the pilot's chest then another into the head, Shepard quickly checked the guard they had shot, he was dead too. Shepard aimed at Vega, "Put the gun down lieutenant."

"What the hell?" The lieutenant saw Shepard's gun pointed at him and placed his own on the deck, before kicking it away from him. "This is loco commander! What's going on?"

"Cerberus arranged a prison break. My question is whether you're a part of their plan?"

"You're _with_ Cerberus? ¡Cabrón!" The lieutenant's hands bunched into fists and the rest of his body tensed in preparation for a desperate lunge across the cockpit.

"Sit down lieutenant." Shepard had to gesture with the pistol for emphasis, "I said _sit down_ Vega." The marine eased himself onto the deck, glaring. "I'm not with Cerberus, but I'm not so sure about you. It's a little convenient you just happened to be on this shuttle." Vega tried protesting but Shepard just spoke over him. "Save it James. Cerberus will be expecting a message from their agent. When they don't get one, I'm hoping they'll try to contact him. So we'll wait, it's the easiest way to be sure."

"What happens if they don't?" The lieutenant asked.

"You get to wear my bracelets whilst I steal this shuttle. Then I'll drop you off somewhere secure and send a message to the Alliance so they can rescue you." Shepard informed him. "Or, I shoot you, steal the shuttle and tell the Alliance where to send the medevac."

Vega shook his head, "This is loco," he repeated. After that the cockpit fell silent as the two men warily watched one another.

The prison guard's omni-tool lit up. Shepard carefully crouched and tapped a couple of controls activating an external speaker. Mr Kay's voice entered the room. "Delta, you're late. Have you secured Shepard yet?"

Shepard gestured at Lieutenant Vega to be silent before responding, "This is Shepard, your man is dead, complications arose, mistakes where made."

There was a pause for several seconds before the Cerberus operative spoke. "What are you playing at Shepard? How did my asset die?"

"He died because I shot him, after he failed to identify himself and whilst he was waving a gun around." Shepard explained, before offering. "It was quick, I doubt he suffered."

"Why did you shoot him?" Kay's voice grated, "What do you mean by complications?"

"I didn't know he was your agent, I believed Lieutenant Vega was. The lieutenant _did_ arrive with the shuttle he _did_ convince the guards to take off my restraints. Your _asset_ just disappeared into the cockpit until the other guards died then he came out shooting. I reacted he died."

"Why was your overgrown JAG lawyer even on that shuttle? We know that you didn't contact him." Mr Kay sounded unconvinced.

"Well I would ask him if your _asset_ hadn't put four or five rounds into him. Being dead tends to make people uncooperative." Shepard fed a little frustration into his voice. "Stop stalling and keep to our agreement or I'll just take this shuttle and leave, your choice, cup-cake."

There was silence for over a moment before Mr Kay responded, "My asset had an omni-tool for you, find it and select communication protocol 39-Theta. After that do _exactly_ as you are ordered. Do not deviate, complicate, or make any more mistakes or I will…"

"We already had that conversation," Shepard interrupted, "protocol 39-Theta correct? I'll see you soon, Shepard out." The commander closed the channel on a still talking Mr Kay and lowered his pistol. "Sorry James," he apologised, "but I couldn't afford to take the chance."

"Sure, no problem," Vega smiled, before shouting. "Are you kidding me? You pulled a gun on me! You threatened to shoot me _and_ accused _me_ of being with Cerberus! You're out of your chingado mind! You're loco commander! You're the poster boy of desposeído de sus facultades mentales!"

Shepard waited for the irate marine to pause for breath. "James," he kept his voice soft, "I'm sorry I really am." The commander started searching the shot prison guard, "But bitch in your own time right now Cerberus will be waiting for us and they won't take kindly to the fact we're both still alive."

Shepard heard Vega moving around the cockpit, retrieving his weapon, before the lieutenant spoke. "Want to tell me why I don't just get on the comm and report all this to Arcturus station? Better yet, why you didn't just tell _someone_ that Kay is a Cerberus cabronazo? You done that, and maybe there wouldn't be four dead bodies with us in here."

"Communications have to be compromised," Shepard replied, "I seriously doubt that Cerberus has the resources to fight past the first fleet, secure the station and then steal the Normandy." He found the spare omni-tool, "They aren't hulking brawlers more like mini, evil, ninjas. In a square fight with the Alliance they would lose." Shepard examined the omni-tool for anything unusual, "If you try warning the station they'll probably block the message and then they'll _really_ try to kill us." The omni-tool appeared normal so the commander tightened it onto his left arm. "I did try warning you about Kay, remember, Chihuahua? I was hoping you would pick up on that, maybe get in touch with Hackett at fifth fleet or Anderson on the Citadel. Obviously didn't work."

"Chihuahua?" James was incredulous, "That's your idea of a warning? Come on commander, that's more than a little obtuse. You could have just come out and said it or kicked up a storm after I left, maybe tried using that fancy Spectre status to get the Council's attention. What's the truth here, why didn't you really try?"

The huge marine was too perceptive, it was probably a useful trait for his JAG duties but right now Shepard found it uncomfortable. The commander had excuses, reasons really, but the truth…the truth wasn't enough, not for anyone else. Shepard realised the lieutenant needed to hear _something,_ maybe only a part of the truth would do? "Kay isn't in charge of this operation," he started, "he couldn't have visited me in the stockade if he was." The words came more easily as he continued. "Cerberus wouldn't risk someone in charge of such an important mission in such a controlled location. If they had been detained the whole op would need to be canned, and Kay's approach was all wrong for an attempt at recruitment he was confrontational, antagonistic. He was furious about being there." He left unspoken his hope about who was really in charge of the operation and had sent Mr Kay to talk to him. Jacob Taylor was a good man but he tended towards directness, whilst Shepard had made his dislike of The Illusive Man abundantly clear in their last conference and the last time he saw Kelly Chambers the young woman was almost catatonic after her ordeal on the Collector Base. That left only one person in Cerberus who could care enough to jeopardise an important mission just to rescue him from prison. "If I had obviously compromised Kay's cover the rest would have disappeared and we would have no opportunity to stop them. Whereas now?"

"You _are_ loco," Vega breathed, "you're planning to take on a Cerberus assault force with what, a freshly pressed set of dress blues and a winsome smile?"

"James, when you say it like that it's a little disheartening. Besides all we have to do is get onto the Normandy before Cerberus does with one of their encrypted omni-tools, maybe two. Then we let the Normandy's computer crack their encryption and disrupt their control over the comm-net. After that we get to sit back and watch as Arcturus security and the first fleet smash into them like a hammer thrown by an angry Norse god." Shepard activated his omni-tool. "Now I am going to talk with Cerberus before they decide to just write us off so, shush." The commander found and activated the Cerberus protocol then selected an external speaker, "This is Commander Shepard to whichever Cerberus flunky is listening. Hello, over."

Lieutenant James Vega hid his face in his hands at the grin on Shepard's face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Arcturus Station**

Shepard stood at the large hatch that made up the port side of the shuttle as is it slid open, revealing the two white and gold armoured figures waiting outside in the small VIP shuttle dock. The majority of the Arcturus shipyard was a zero gravity environment with only visitor areas and the crew habitation level being fitted with mass effect generated gravity. The commander had to quell the instinct to draw his own weapon as the two troopers snapped their rifles up and trained them on him. He understood tactically it would be suicide, the two Cerberus fighters where in full armour, equipped with personal shielding and wielding Mattock rifles. Against that Shepard was wearing dress blues with, in his opinion, a badly underpowered pistol hanging out of a trouser pocket. Shepard realised he was outnumbered, outgunned and under-equipped and yet he still could feel the urge to just ignore all that and attack. It was a stupid, suicidal impulse and yet it hung there suspended in his mind like the apple on the tree.

"Delta?" The Cerberus trooper's voice had a strange electronic sound to it. Shepard nodded his head slightly and the two troopers relaxed, lowering their rifles. "We need to secure your contact's body, where is it?"

Shepard pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the starboard hatchway that led to the cockpit, "Co-pilot's chair," he informed them.

The two Cerberus troopers shared a nod and the one who hadn't spoken stepped into the shuttle, moving to the port side cockpit hatch. The other bent down to pick up a large kit-bag before tossing it to Shepard, who rocked back a step as he caught it. "Armour for you, put it on," the trooper ordered.

Shepard gripped the kit-bag with both hands, "Right."

The silent trooper entered the cockpit, and discovered three bodies scattered around the room. An uniformed alliance pilot sprawled in the left chair and next to him, in the co-pilot's chair, another body slumped. The third, an Alliance prison guard in badly fitted armour, was standing with his back against the aft bulkhead with pistols in both hands, aiming one at each hatchway. Lieutenant James Vega fired the pistol trained on the port hatch at the Cerberus trooper's head and the trooper stumbled back out of the cockpit as his shielding deflected the round.

As soon as he heard Vega shoot, Shepard threw the heavy kit-bag at the trooper still standing outside the shuttle. The combination of speed and mass hitting his chest was enough to stagger the trooper and, for a second or two, trap his rifle against his chest. That bought Shepard enough time to draw his own weapon and as the trooper from the cockpit stumbled back, step forward and fire twice into Vega's target from a range of less than an inch. At such proximity the magnetic fields created when firing a modern mass accelerator weapon disrupted a hard-suit's sensors. This disruption often resulted in a hard-suit failing to activate the mass effect nodes that 'shielded' an individual from incoming fire, such as the two rounds that the commander sent punching through the weaker neck armour of the Cerberus trooper.

The Cerberus soldier didn't react as Shepard had anticipated there was no futile grasping of the neck wounds in an effort to stem the bleeding. Instead the trooper tried raising his rifle to fire at the silhouette of James Vega as the lieutenant followed the trooper out of the cockpit. Shepard stomped on the back of the fatally injured trooper's knee then used his free hand to grab the unbalanced trooper's shoulder and pull him down to the deck.

James Vega saw Shepard take down the trooper he had shot and scanned for another target. The lieutenant had discarded one of his pistols in the cockpit and now held the remaining weapon in the approved two-handed grip. Vega saw the remaining trooper outside disentangle himself from the kit-bag Shepard had thrown at him and started shooting before the trooper could take aim. The lieutenant fired in a steady, methodical rhythm to maintain his accuracy whilst he took a couple of steps to interpose himself between the Cerberus soldier and the defenceless Shepard who was now wrestling with the injured trooper on the shuttle's deck.

The blood jetted out of the injured man's neck like a fountainhead, drenching Shepard's uniform. Even dying the soldier fought on, discarding his rifle and trying to draw the combat knife affixed to his chest. Shepard grasped the wrist trying to draw the knife, needing to use all his enhanced strength to prevent it from being unsheathed then needed to use his gun arm to ward off punches from the trooper's other arm. The trooper bucked and twisted his legs in an attempt to dislodge the commander, one of his knees landed a glancing blow on Shepard's rib cage and the commander bit out a curse. The blood flow lessened and the trooper's struggles weakened, Shepard took a chance and stopped blocking the trooper's attacks. Instantly the trooper landed a couple of punches on Shepard but the trooper's strength was finally ebbing away and the blows failed to dislodge him. The commander moved his pistol under the trooper's chin, got the correct angle, fired and the Cerberus trooper died as the bullet ripped through his brain. Shepard sent another, just to be sure.

Vega's duel with the remaining Cerberus trooper was not going well. The marine lieutenant had succeeded in getting a couple of rounds past the trooper's shields, inflicting only minor wounds, whilst the trooper's armour prevented the shots Vega aimed at more vital areas from causing immediately lethal damage. In response the trooper's rifle fire was swiftly starting to tax the lieutenant's own defences, who couldn't retreat into cover without exposing the un-armoured Shepard behind him. It was almost a relief when Vega heard the steady bark of a Mattock rifle firing behind him. The real relief came when the Cerberus trooper's head snapped back as the faster moving rifle rounds punched through his helmet. Vega advanced to the trooper's fallen body, keeping his weapon trained, whilst his eyes swept the small shuttle dock for additional threats. He used his foot to ease the trooper's rifle away from the corpse then, satisfied there was no further danger, the lieutenant holstered his sidearm and scooped up the rifle before turning back towards the shuttle in time to see Shepard stand. Vega whistled, "What the hell happened to you, commander?"

The first human Spectre was a mess, his dress blues had been soaked by the trooper's blood during their struggle and more flecks of blood spotted his face. The trooper's final punches had also split the skin at the commander's cheek and left heavy bruising around one eye. Any part of his uniform that hadn't caught the arterial spray during the fight had instead been daubed when Shepard had stretched for the rifle he now held or coated when he had rolled to clear Vegas from his line of fire. Shepard grimaced, "You should see the other guy, James" he told the marine.

Vega deliberately looked at the dead trooper in the shuttle's cargo section, then back at Shepard. "I _can_ see the other guy, Shepard. You still look worse."

"He's dead James. He took two through his neck and another two in the head, the only thing that's holding his skull together must be his helmet. In what possible way can I look worse than that?" Shepard saw Vega open his mouth to retort and hurried on, "Shut up lieutenant, and give me a hand with that kit-bag instead."

The lieutenant rested his salvaged rifle against his shoulder and huffed as he picked up the kit-bag Shepard had thrown earlier then handed it over to the commander. Shepard placed the bag down at his feet, opened it and started pulling out pieces of armour, a shoulder pauldron with a red in white stripe, a vambrace with the same paint scheme and a chest piece with 'N7' in white and next to a small blue triangle. "Dear Papá Noel," James said in a child-like voice, "when I grow up I want to be a Spectre. Because when Spectres kill people, the malo drop nice new shiny sets of armour for them to wear, just in their size and everything." The lieutenant switched back to his regular voice and continued, "Whereas us regular grunts just get bullet holed, badly fitting, gear they have to strip off of the dead guy's body."

Shepard gave the lieutenant a flat look whilst he finished emptying the bag, "Are you finished James or do you want to give me a hand getting this lot on?" he asked.

Vega smiled, "I'll help you commander. Not because I like you or anything, but just so next time you can be the bullet stopper instead of me."

The Spectre and the marine worked swiftly, Shepard unbuttoning and discarding his dress tunic then inserting the in-ear com-pieces, before pulling on the ballistic material under armour. Meanwhile Vega inspected and arranged the ceramic pieces that comprised the outer layers. Finally as Shepard started attaching the ceramic carapace to the inner layer, Vega checked the charge level of the suit's power cell. Satisfied the marine stepped back, thumped Shepard's shoulder twice to indicate everything checked out, then realised there was an extra piece left on the deck. Vega swore and drew Shepard's attention to the offending item.

It was an omni-tool. Shepard sighed and started to dismount the carapace protecting his right arm. "Guess it's been a while since you last did this, James?" he asked.

"Come on," Vega protested, "who in their right mind wears two omni-tools? It's redundant, mad and kinda pointless." Shepard finished loosening the outer armour on his right arm and Vega fitted the extra omni-tool into place before resuming speaking as he helped Shepard tighten his armour. "I mean you only have two hands and you need one to use the interface. So even if, god forbid, you lose one arm how are you going to access the other one? Use your toes maybe?"

"There's talk the Alliance is developing a method of creating advanced capability blades for omni-tools, for mêlée use." Shepard informed the lieutenant, "A person with an omni-tool blade on each arm could have a real advantage."

"Please," Vega snorted, "the Alliance is in the middle of the most expensive upgrade for the fleet since its formation and you're telling me their going to spend millions just to develop a new knife." The lieutenant tapped his finger off the knife scabbard on Shepard's torso, "There's a very old joke about two of the pre-Alliance space agencies and a pencil. I happen to believe the Alliance is too organised to perpetuate an old myth."

Shepard gave a non-committal grunt and started up the new omni-tool, there was a pending message stored on the device. He opened it and a hologram of Miranda Lawson sprang up. The hangar, Lieutenant Vega, everything else faded into an abstract background mosaic. Like a man lost in the desert then offered a drink of water, all of Shepard's awareness was transfixed onto the image in front of him. Miranda looked exhausted, her face drawn whilst her hair hung lifelessly but it was the eyes that tore at him. Those incredible blue eyes he knew so well, in which he had seen furious, murderous rage, tears and love where absent. He recognised the eyes looking out at him now and hated them. They where the eyes that had stared back at him from hospital mirrors after Akuze, the same eyes in his mother's face in the days after she had learned of the death of his father, her ex-husband, and his newly born half-sister on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. They where the eyes of the walking dead, those who had lost something so precious that they needed to shut out everything else and even though it was a recorded, holographic message Shepard desperately wanted to reach out to her.

"Hello Shepard," the holograph gave a wan smile, "I wish that we could talk directly, but we both know this isn't the time." Even her voice sounded tired and dulled, "Kai Leng has most likely tried threats to force your cooperation, but I know you. Threats won't make you turn away from the Alliance and the Council," Miranda's voice took on a note of hurt, "and despite everything we've done together you'll never willingly join Cerberus. I know you have your reasons and I understand them, but I wish. I wish that you and I meant more…" Her voice trailed off into silence, before returning, "I _know_ you, Jean. If you are hearing this it means you're hoping to disrupt Leng's mission, to prevent him from stealing the Normandy somehow. Be careful, _please_. Leng is vicious and completely ruthless, don't try reasoning or dissuading him because you'll die if you do and I don't…" Her voice trailed off again and Shepard realised _he_ was blinking back tears. "Please Jean, Cerberus needs EDI." Miranda's voice suddenly became animated and urgent. "The information we need is here, in the Collector's station. But it's protected, by indoctrination and Reaper codes, we can't access it. But EDI could, she's immune to indoctrination and she has Reaper cyber-warfare modules. EDI is the only one who can do this. So please Jean help me, we can stop the Reapers but we're running out of time." Miranda's voice softened into a whisper, "We know they are coming. There's an atmosphere on the base, a tension. It feels like the Reapers could arrive any day now, and every day they don't ratchets that tension even higher." Miranda gave a small shake of her head - as if to clear it, "Shepard, I love you. I don't know why you left me behind with the others on Omega before going into Batarian space, but please trust me now. We have to do this it is the only way to save everyone." The message ended and the hologram disappeared, once again stored in the omni-tool's cache memory.

"We better get moving commander," Vega told the motionless Shepard, "we still have to get to the Normandy before this Kai Leng cabronazo does."

"Right," Shepard's voice was rough, he tried again. "You're right. We had better get moving." Shepard un-slung the rifle from his back and gathered himself, "I'll take point, we move fast. We find any friendly casualties you give them a single application of medi-gel and we move on. The faster we get to the Normandy the sooner the cavalry arrives, clear?"

Vega shook his head, "Uh-huh commander, I'm on point. I don't know who the Princess is but she's clearly done a number on your head. You're not all here; can I trust you to cover my back at least?"

The lawyer was just too perceptive, Shepard thought, but Vega was right though. That image of Miranda worried him she had always taken pride in her appearance. Just what had happened to change her from the vibrant woman he remembered, into the exhausted, rambling person in the message? Was she in danger? How could she still trust Cerberus? Should he still trust her? Too many questions where roiling in his mind, at least he could get one answered. "Princess?" he enquired.

Vega shrugged, "Yeah Princess, as in Princess Leia, from Star Wars right?" Shepard gave him a blank look, "The old classic movie? You must have seen it right? Tell me you didn't get a whole - 'Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope' - kinda vibe from that message?"

Shepard shook his head, "Miri has never been some damsel in distress waiting for a rescue. She is smart and confident and bloody lethal in a fight. I would feel sorry for anyone who tried to lock her up in a tower somewhere." But if they succeeded, then they had better find somewhere else to be when he came looking for her, the commander added in his mind.

"So 'Miri' and 'I love you' huh, sounds like there's something there commander?" Vega smirked at Shepard's glared response. "Alright I get it, a gentleman doesn't talk right?"

"James, I know as a lawyer you where taught to investigate, to pry out information," the commander stated. "But right now, you need to be a marine, not a lawyer. Focus on the here and now. You want to be the man on point, fine. Lead off lieutenant."

"Aye, aye sir," the marine replied.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks to the folk at BSN for putting up with my rather inane questions, you are all too good to be associated with this train wreck so I won't besmirch your profile names here! (You can stop worrying Seracen, hot_heart & Obsidian Gryphon you're all in the clear! -NUTS!) Also one abbreviation this time, DRA=Diffuse Radiator Array.

**Arcturus Station**

Vega signalled for a stop as he and Shepard approached a corridor junction. The marine waited until he felt Shepard's pat on his shoulder to tell him the message had been received, before he crept forward alone. The two Alliance officers had made their way through the eerily silent visitors section of the ship-yard towards the secure berth housing the Normandy without encountering anyone. Anyone still alive at least, the trail of the Cerberus assault force was marked by the occasional body of a yard worker or one clothed in an Alliance uniform. The Cerberus troopers had left no survivors in their wake, every body Shepard and Vega passed had been executed. The two men had also passed several blood trails and hoped that it meant some had escaped the Cerberus blitz. But the trails had led away from their route and they had been unable to take the time to investigate further, realising that their only chance to raise the alert depended upon them getting to the Normandy swiftly. Whatever Cerberus had done to neutralise the alarms had been thorough, even the hard-wired fire alarms had failed to activate when they had tried them and all attempts to make contact to anyone using the station's com-network resulted in failure. The two men where in the very heart of Alliance territory, the System's Parliament convened in a chamber barely more than a kilometre away, the headquarters of the Alliance Navy was just as close and outside an entire Alliance fleet patrolled the system to guard the station from threats. Yet the two officers where completely alone, isolated with a group of Cerberus troopers whilst the rest of the station continued with their normal day existence. The lieutenant admitted to himself he found the whole situation unsettling, he had never realised just how much support he had taken from knowing he was part of a team, a member of the Systems Alliance Military. Even when he and his squad had fought alone on Fehl Prime, without communications, he had always had the feeling that the Alliance wouldn't abandon its own. He didn't have that feeling today, today the Alliance was asleep and everything rested on him and a compromised Spectre. Maybe that was what truly worried him, he thought. Like everyone in the Alliance Military Vega had heard the myths and tales that surrounded Commander Shepard. How he, alone, had clawed his way out of the Alliance's disastrous first encounter with a thresher maw. A disaster that had claimed the lives of an entire colony and the marine company sent to investigate. How he had saved the remnants of the Eden Prime colony from obliteration by a rogue Turian Spectre's geth army and how that had led to the commander becoming the first human Spectre, doggedly pursuing the same renegade across the galaxy. That was the legend, the former poster boy for the Alliance. The man Vega had talked with in prison could have been that man. Yes there where scars, mannerisms even, that hinted at the costs the commander had paid, but then many members of the service had such scars. It was the message from Miranda Lawson and Shepard's reaction to it that concerned him. The commander's emotions had flittered openly across his face, first joy then desperation and fear as he listened to the Cerberus operative. Then there was the commander's angry reaction when Vega had tried to lighten the mood by giving her the 'Princess' moniker. He had expected the commander to joke back, maybe even explain just what she meant to him. Instead it was if the lieutenant had tripped an alarm and a pressure door had dropped down separating the two men. What concerned Vega wasn't that the commander had closed him out, but the reason why he had been shut out. Was it to protect Shepard? Or was it to protect Vega from Shepard? The brief look of absolute fury on the commander's face had made it difficult to judge.

The lieutenant put his concerns aside as he approached the junction. The corridor the two Alliance officers where following, was more commonly used by visitors to the Alliance shipyard. As such it was fitted with artificial gravity created by a series of small mass effect generators hidden beneath the deck's carpeting; the same carpeting was also proving very effective at swallowing the sound of Vega's booted footsteps. The marine eased himself against the panelled wall next to the junction. According to the station schematics the new corridor would be only a few metres in length before it ended in a door. Beyond the door lay an observation booth which overlooked the berth that, according to the Cerberus omni-tool, held the Normandy. Vega cautiously peered around the corner, although there had been no obvious sign of Cerberus travelling this corridor neither man was sure whether that meant Cerberus had not passed this way, or just that no-one had been here for Cerberus to murder. The new corridor was empty and the lieutenant waved for Shepard to move up, waiting until the commander was next to him before speaking. "The corridor's clear," Vega reported, "but we have a problem. The door's locked, so unless you've got some breaching charges hidden somewhere or know a secret Spectre technique that can open a door by glaring at it, we're screwed."

Shepard gently bounced the back of his head against the wall and muttered, "Maybe I can hot wire it?" Vega looked unconvinced, "Just hold this junction, James. I'll do something about the hatch." The Spectre moved down the corridor towards the door and the marine repositioned himself in an attempt to maximise his cover whilst covering the two approaches to the 'T' shaped junction.

Vega listened as the commander quietly, tunelessly, hummed whilst he pried open an access panel and then started rummaging through the door's wiring. Finally the lieutenant heard the locks disengage and looked over as Shepard stood back from the still closed door. "Guess it's been awhile since you last did this huh, commander?"

"Very cute, lieutenant," Shepard replied as he un-slung the rifle from his back, "but I haven't finished; any company?"

The lieutenant checked both directions, "Both empty, we could be the only people on the whole station going by the number of people passing by."

Shepard fired a single round into the upper casing of the door motor; there was a loud bang and the door jerked open an inch. "Alliance hatches are held closed by lock bars and a positive pressure reservoir in the motor," the commander explained. "In the event of a power loss any unsecured hatches that loses its positive reservoir cracks open to allow rescue teams to move in more swiftly. Whilst the locking bars hold any secured hatches shut." The commander slung the rifle away, grasped one edge of the door and heaved. The door slowly ground open, "Learnt that when I overheard a conversation between Tali and Kasumi one time, it was on a shuttle flight. The two of them actually had an hour-long conversation about the different types of doors in the galaxy."

"Seems like a big security risk," Vega observed, "you're telling me all you need to do to break into somewhere is shoot a hole in the door motor?"

"_After_ you get the locks to disengage and successfully bypass the alarms, James, otherwise you'll trigger every security protocol ever devised." Shepard finished pulling the door open, "Apparently that's the tricky part, but since Cerberus seemed to have neutralised all the alarms already…"

"You can open any door on Arcturus today just by shooting the motor out, that's convenient." The lieutenant quickly checked the corridors again, "It doesn't look like anyone's coming to investigate." Vega moved up next to the commander and gestured to the now open door, "After you, commander."

The rifle was back in the commander's hands, "I'll take the right, you clear the left. Understood?" Shepard waited for the lieutenant's nod, "Go." The two men swiftly entered and cleared the room, finding it deserted and empty, barring a large conference table and chairs placed in the centre. The conference chamber hung above and just short of the bow of the vessel berthed below, the ceiling to floor windows offered a panoramic view of the area. Shepard paused for a moment to simply stand and look.

The Normandy had changed slightly since Shepard had seen her last. The black and white Cerberus paint scheme had been removed and instead the Normandy was now painted a solid dark, almost black, blue which was interrupted only by the dull glowing 'tiger stripes' of her DRA. The Cerberus logo emblazoned upon the bow was gone too and Shepard was surprised that the Alliance had not simply replaced it with the 'Stars in A'. Still her name remained, running down the length of her flank in clear, crisp, white lettering. It was still the Normandy, her battle damage now repaired and looking as if she was simply waiting for the arrival of her commander before she could depart. An image that was cruelly shattered by the chaos on the docks wrapped around her. Bodies lay strewn across the walkways, as before the majority of the casualties where either civilian dock workers or un-armoured Alliance personnel. But now scattered among them where a few white armoured corpses, Cerberus troopers, presumably killed by the small number of fallen marines that also dotted the scene.

But Cerberus hadn't reached the Normandy, a few metres from the gangway that lead to the port-side airlock a section of the upper walkways had crashed down, creating a tangled mass of metal and supply crates that formed a defendable choke-point. The conference chamber gave Vega and Shepard an almost un-obscured view as a squad of ten Cerberus troopers traded fire with a small group of survivors collected around a pair of marines. The choke-point prevented the larger Cerberus group from overwhelming or manoeuvring around the defenders. Still the Cerberus troopers were equipped with rifles and shielded hard-suits; where-as the defenders, with the exception of the two marines, held only pistols. Both Vega and Shepard realised the inevitability of the situation even as it unfolded. The shields of the Cerberus troopers and the marines flickered as the occasional round tested them, either deflected away or slowed sufficiently to prevent them punching through armour. The other defenders lacked shields. A round from a Cerberus rifle caught one defender in the stomach, ripping through her. The woman collapsed a yard worker Vega guessed from her clothing. Her colleague dropped his pistol and dragged her closer, embracing the injured woman. From their elevated position the two officers couldn't see the look of anguish on the man's face as his friend screamed and twisted helplessly, but neither Vega nor Shepard needed to. Both men had seen that horror before, on other worlds, orbiting different stars, but still the same raw pain of human emotion. Another defender fell and the Cerberus troopers started to press forward, the first trooper through the choke-point was cut down by the cross fire from the two marines. But as one of the marines ducked back into cover to replace her Avenger's thermal clip, a second trooper dashed through. Rounds from an Avenger assault rifle and two Predator pistols smashed into the trooper's shields, causing them to flicker strobe-like, before the emitters where overwhelmed. Bullets crashed against armour, some going through, but still the Cerberus trooper ran. Supporting fire from the Cerberus side of the choke-point tore through one of the last un-armoured defenders, killing him instantly, before the reloading marine returned to the fray. The combined gunfire from the defenders brought down the running trooper just before he could reach cover and safety, but there where now too few remaining defenders to hold off the rest of the Cerberus squad. A surge of suppressing fire smashed into the defenders' positions, forcing even the two marines into cover, as the troopers started making their through the choke-point.

The window in front of Vega spider webbed as Shepard's rifle fired, and then shattered apart as the commander continued sending rounds through. The marine hastily took aim with his own rifle, looking for a target with the tell-tale blue flickering that signified rounds colliding into shields and opened fire. The target of Shepard and Vega's fire spun in their direction as his shields failed, he barely had time to warn his fellow troopers before the powerful Mattock rounds started punching through his armour, the trooper struggled to bring his rifle to bear as Vega heard Shepard's firing pause, then the Spectre sent a round through their target's helmet. The Cerberus soldier fell as Lieutenant Vega heard Shepard's voice calmly state, "Reloading."

Vega switched target, as the Cerberus advance slowed, trying to react to the sudden attack. Another trooper fell to the two men's rifle fire as the squad hesitated, realising that to continue would leave them exposed to the fire coming from Shepard and Vega, but unwilling to retreat when their objective was so tantalisingly close. A burst of Avenger fire tested the shields of a third trooper and the squad retreated, recognising that their numbers where too few to suppress and overwhelm the reinforced defenders. A final trooper slumped as the squad withdrew further down the wharf, their previous positions before the choke-point provided them no protection from their new opponents, towards the larger doors that led back into the station interior.

Vega was puzzled as he watched Shepard return his rifle to its mount and started removing the chairs from around the conference table, throwing them aside. "Not that we didn't just save the Normandy from Cerberus, commander. But coming in here was a mistake," the lieutenant stated. "There's no walkway or ladders down to the main level. Just how exactly are we supposed to reach the Normandy?"

"She's right there James." Shepard gestured to the ship below them, as he finished removing the chairs and moved to one end of the large table. "A little help?" he suggested.

The marine hurriedly slung his own rifle and the two men strained as they moved the heavy table aside, leaving a clear path from the open door straight across the open room towards the berthed Normandy. "That's a 40 to 50 foot drop commander; onto a sloping hard surface with at least another good hundred feet below if you slip." The lieutenant realised Shepard's intent. "You're thinking to jump? _That's_ your plan?" The marine followed Shepard as he strode over to the window facing the Normandy and looked down, as if reassuring himself. "Hey!" Vega's frustration grew as the Spectre ignored him and returned to the centre of the room. Shepard's hand went back, drawing the rifle slung on his back and the lieutenant reflexively stepped clear of the window.

The rounds from Shepard's rifle made short work of the window and after he re-slung his weapon the commander moved closer to the newly created hole, dragging a chair with him. "Watch," was all he said as he gripped the chair with both hands, lazily spun in a half circle and threw the chair out towards the berthed Normandy.

The lieutenant watched as the chair sailed outwards, dipping almost imperceptibly, until it bounced off the Normandy's hull some 130 feet behind the bow. The bounce sent the chair spinning onward towards the enormous door at the far end of the hangar. Vega blinked, trying to process what he had just seen. His brain supplied him with the answer. "Zero-G." he muttered in disgust, "In a shipyard the walkways have gravity but the ships hang weightless. Because it's more efficient, it gives yard workers easier access to the exterior hull and the drive core can be completely powered down if necessary." The marine shook his head and followed Shepard across the room to the open door, "I'm sorry, commander."

The commander gave a tight grin, "Thanks," he said. "Besides, why do you think the chair went first, James? If it had dropped like a stone, this conversation," the commander's hand waved back and forth between the two men, "would sound much different. I thought there would be a walkway or a ladder, or _something, _which led down to the main level. This is us being lucky lieutenant." The two officers turned to face the gaping hole that lead to the Normandy.

"What happens after we jump?" Vega asked as the two men entered commands onto their omni-tools.

"I go deliver a Cerberus encrypted omni-tool to…the Normandy. Whilst you pull those marines back to the ship's upper airlock." Shepard ordered, "Keep Cerberus back if you can just be aware that they must have sent troops up here. It's too good a position for them to ignore it twice." The two men where ready, "After that we hold as long as possible and, if necessary, retreat into the ship. But once…the Normandy's restored communications, it won't take long for Arcturus security and the fleet to respond."

"No big deal then? Just defend a fragile and exposed location against a larger enemy force for an unspecified length of time. Why do the words 'Last Stand' seem suddenly real àpropos?"

"It's a Monday." Shepard joked back then took off in a sprint towards the Normandy.

Vega grimaced at the commander's attempt at humour, and slowly counted to three before following. As the lieutenant leapt he saw Shepard's landing, it wasn't exactly smooth but at least the commander was on the Normandy's hull. Vega's landing in comparison was almost text book with the activated, gecko-like, spatulae in the ball of his boots giving the marine a secure anchor. The shields of the two men started flickering as long-ranged, almost speculative, fire came from the retreated Cerberus troopers' position. Vega and Shepard made their way towards the forward airlock, the 'gecko-grip' of their boots slowing them and the Cerberus fire grew in accuracy as the surviving troopers began advancing back towards the choke-point.

James dropped down next to Shepard, who was standing by the forward airlock and talking to one of the marines who had been defending the Normandy. "…and that's Lieutenant Vega." The commander pointed at the marine lieutenant next to him. "Now that you know who we are marine, I need to get aboard the Normandy."

The marine shook her head, and her weight shifted slightly away from the Spectre, "No unauthorised personnel are allowed onboard," her head turned to include Vega in the conversation, "sirs. Not without prior notification from Admiral Mikhailovich's office."

"I'm a Spectre, marine, and I _need_ to get aboard to stop this Cerberus attack." Shepard's voice hardened and his own centre of balance moved. "Without the Normandy's comm-suite we have no way to call in reinforcements, no way of stopping Cerberus."

Vega paused, uncertain whether he should support Shepard in trying to brow-beat the younger marine. She was clinging to her orders, finding in them a solid centre, a proof against the storm swirling around her. The lieutenant had been there himself, when everything seemed to be falling apart it was so tempting to grasp for something, anything that could provide you with a purpose. At basic marines where taught when that happens, you follow orders, to trust the chain of command. Shepard and the young marine glared at one other, anger and frustration on their faces. A short burst of Avenger fire sounded at the choke-point and the other marine defender called out, "Beth, we need help!"

Vega watched as the Spectre took a breath, held it and then exhaled. The Spectre returned his pistol to the holster at his thigh, startling the two marines who hadn't realised it had been drawn. The commander forced the anger back down inside and even if Shepard's voice sounded rough, it still issued orders. "Get your casualties aboard marine; we'll help with the defence."

* * *

Vega grunted as the Cerberus round smacked into his pauldron, driving his shoulder back and spoiling his aim. A burst of Avenger fire from one of the marines cut down the lieutenant's target and Vega gratefully moved back behind cover to let the heat build-up from his rifle dissipate. The automatic fire from PFC Campbell's weapon tested the shields of another Cerberus trooper, forcing them to duck back behind the tangled mess of metal bars and collapsed walkway they had been using as cover. The survivors of the first Cerberus squad had been reinforced by the arrival of a further four troopers, but had not attempted another push towards the Normandy. Instead they seemed content to simply trade fire with the remaining four defenders. Vega wasn't sure if that was because Cerberus doubted their chances against the three marines and the Spectre or if they where waiting for further reinforcements. The lieutenant saw PFC Campbell roll back behind the supply crate she was using as cover as her weapon overheated and came up with a third option, Cerberus could be simply waiting for the defenders to exhaust their supply of thermal clips. The other marine started firing again PFC 'Beth' Westmoreland, the lieutenant recalled, the senior most survivor of her unit. The other was PFC Sarah Campbell and Vega had to admit he was impressed by the way the two marines had managed to create a viable squad out of the mixed survivors of the Cerberus rampage. It was a pity, the lieutenant thought, that the same obstinate attitude was likely going to get everyone killed.

There was a brief flurry of shots from Shepard's position, which was answered in kind by at least three of the eight Cerberus troopers, forcing the commander back. Then Shepard gave the bad news, "We've got another six troopers coming down the wharf," he informed the others, "couple are carrying kites."

Vega glanced down the walkway, firing a couple of rounds at the Cerberus position as a matter of principle, and saw the reinforcements for himself. As reported two of the troopers where carrying what C-Sec and other police forces called 'ballistic shields' and what Alliance Marines called 'kites' after an infamous test accident several years ago in which a marine had been kited up into the air by a biotic. The shield the unfortunate marine had been carrying was designed to be impervious not just to pistol fire but also the much faster moving rounds of rifles and as a result was heavy enough that a marine needed both hands to carry it, unlike the lighter models used by C-Sec which could be carried comfortably strapped to one arm. The two-handed grip had already raised concerns for the testing group; the shattered wrists and fractured arm suffered by their volunteer when the thing had landed on him afterwards had insured a negative report to the appropriations board. The Cerberus soldiers seemed to be equipped with a more advanced model, light-weight enough to be carried with one hand, whilst a quick burst from Westmoreland clearly demonstrated its ability to shrug off rifle fire. A snap shot from Vega's own heavier hitting Mattock only succeeded in pausing the protected trooper's advance as the round crumpled against the reinforced surface.

"Make for the Normandy," it was Shepard's voice giving the order, but all four of the defenders recognised that their position had become untenable, "Vega and Campbell first. Westmoreland, you and I'll give cover."

Vega wanted to protest, but accepted there wasn't the time. Instead the lieutenant angrily fired at the approaching Cerberus troops, the bullets biting into their cover, until his rifle ejected the dangerously overheated thermal clip. Shepard and the marines fired as well and for a few precious seconds the four defenders forced their opponents to cower behind their crates, tangled wreckage, anything that shielded them from the storm of gunfire.

"New plan," the commander's voice was clipped, talking swiftly, "run!"

The small group of marines and Spectre broke cover and dashed for the Normandy's airlock, knowing that these few seconds of grace was their last roll of the dice. They either reached the Normandy or Cerberus would gun them down as they ran along the exposed gangway. Vega's boot landed on the metal grille of the walkway, ahead of him Marine Campbell bounded up the slight slope, whilst somewhere behind him was Shepard and Westmoreland. A gun fired and the lieutenant's heart sank, subconsciously he slowed. It was too far, too exposed, Vega realised and their enemies had too many guns for them _all_ to miss.

"Move!" Shepard's voice bellowed in the lieutenant's ear and Vega was too much of a marine to disobey, he sped up as bullets started to slam into the Normandy's hull, the metal gangway and the shields of the four runners.

Vega saw the marine in front of him stagger into the airlock and collapse to the deck, looking for shelter from the Cerberus fire that pounded into the ship. The lieutenant was a second behind her, also throwing himself to the floor and as Vega's shield started recycling his adrenaline twitching fingers loaded the lieutenant's last thermal clip into the heavy Mattock rifle. The third runner arrived, lurching as bullets slammed into her hard-suit. Westmoreland's shielding had been overwhelmed by the fire directed at it and the wounded marine dropped to the floor. The final runner's shields flickered crazily, slowing or deflecting the Cerberus rounds fired at him. Shepard tripped over the prone form of Marine Westmoreland at the entrance of the airlock, crashing down onto the deck of the Normandy.

"EDI, we're in." Vega heard the commander wheeze, "Close the outer hatch."

With a loud hiss the exterior door of the airlock started to descend as Vega and Campbell started firing back down the gangway at a group of troopers storming towards the ship, whilst the panting commander heaved the injured Westmoreland clear of the descending hatch. Finally the hatch slid shut, creating an airtight seal and a blessed moment of silence for the battered defenders. Vega slung his rifle and slumped over to where Shepard and Westmoreland lay entangled on the floor, "Hey Beth, Shepard, you guys ok?"

The wounded marine lifted her head, "I'm fine sir," she slurred. "Bastards only clipped me in the leg, it's not even sore, not really." Vega leaned closer and saw her pupils where mere pinpricks, almost completely contracted as the pain control meds in the marine's hard-suit flooded into her bloodstream. Elizabeth Westmoreland gave a languid sigh then mumbled, "Your commander's kinda comfy lute, but you're better lookin' really."

Vega knelt even as Shepard spoke his name. "I know commander, I've seen this before too," the lieutenant replied as he opened his omni-tool and began entering commands furiously. The lieutenant realised that the other marine was staring at the trio, heard the commander explaining to the young marine what was happening to her friend. How, extremely rarely, a hard-suit could be damaged in such a way that the medical functions failed and how that could result in the onboard medical reserves being injected uncontrollably into the person wearing it. How even though the reservoirs didn't hold enough to be instantly lethal to a person in good health, to a badly wounded marine the outcome could be much different. Vega heard all this as he instructed his omni-tool to communicate with the micro-processor in Westmoreland's armour, as he used his security clearance to enable emergency protocols granting him access to a short list of very simple commands. Vega selected the most appropriate and hoped it would suffice, "I've done what I can commander, but we really need a doctor here."

"We don't have a doctor aboard," a shaken Campbell told the two men, "the Normandy's in the middle of a retro-fit. All we have are yard-workers and a couple of system specialists."

An abstract blue hologram sprung up next to the inner hatch, "Marine Campbell is correct. However the Normandy's infirmary is fully equipped and has been supplied with a complete inventory of consumables. An extensive medical database is also held within the ship's memory core." The hologram winked out as the inner hatch of the airlock opened revealing a young female Enlisted.

"Traynor, Beth needs help. We have to get her to the med-bay," the words spilled out of Sarah's mouth as Vega lifted her softly mumbling friend off of the commander and then across his shoulders.

"Errmm...how...is she?" The newcomer seemed to be flustered by the battered state of the shore party, and the hand holding a data-pad dropped back to her side.

"Just lead us to the infirmary please," the big marine lieutenant's voice was steady and calm, straight out of the Alliance manual for dealing with panicking individuals. "You can do that," Vega's eyes dropped to the crewman's rank insignia, "specialist?"

"Ermm, Sam, sorry Traynor, I mean Samantha Traynor. Yes only I was just, sorry, yes sir. It's this way sir." The young woman stepped back leading Vega and Campbell further into the ship. "If you follow me lieutenant, we go through the CIC, just watch your step around this cabling here, towards that elevator there and then we go down one deck." The specialist kept up an almost constant verbal shield as the trio entered the lift, then walked through the Normandy's mess hall and into the infirmary. As Vega gently laid the injured marine down onto one of the last unoccupied cots, Traynor hurriedly checked that the equipment was powered and ready for use.

"How do we get it to star…?" Vega was cut off as the mechanical arms above the bed started moving and the three people clustered around the bed stepped back swiftly to give them room. "Never mind," the lieutenant said, "it must be automated. Hey commander, do you want to hop up on the next bed and get checked out too? Commander?" Vega looked around the room, "Where's the commander?" he asked.

* * *

Shepard lay still on the deck as Specialist Traynor lead the others out of the airlock and towards sick bay. He even held his breath until the inner hatch slid shut again and EDI's blue holographic avatar reappeared. "Are you hurt Shepard?" the AI's cool voice enquired.

"Not really," Shepard replied and then grunted as he rose to a sitting position, "on the other hand I may have pulled something falling over that marine."

"I can alert someone if you require aid Shepard, should I do so?"

The commander slowly slid himself up the inner airlock hatch until he was standing, "No EDI, I'll manage. Have you been able to contact anyone at Arcturus Command yet?"

"Whilst the omni-tool you procured has provided me with the codes Cerberus are using to control the communications grid. I have only been able to gain access to the network in our immediate location." The AI explained. "This section of the shipyard is heavily shielded to prevent intelligence gathering activities, including private communication to any external destinations. This is preventing me from directly communicating outside the shipyard itself. Additionally Cerberus forces have destroyed the secure wired connections leading from myself to an external network point."

Shepard opened the hatch leading into the Normandy, "Where's Joker, EDI?"

"Jeff is in _his_ chair on the bridge, Shepard. I believe he suspects that you are about to commit a precipitous action and intends to be ready." The Normandy's AI voice was as calm and cool as always, but Shepard was sure there was a tint of disapproval buried somewhere within.

"I'm sorry EDI, I'll do my best to keep him safe," the commander apologised. "But I didn't bring Cerberus; today has all been their event. I'm just trying to wreck their plan to kidnap you and Joker then use him as a hostage to control you." Shepard walked forward to the Normandy's bridge, which had several new monitors and other equipment installed since he had last seen it in orbit around Hagalaz. In blatant contrast to the starkly functional military hardware that surrounded them, where the comfortable _real_ _leather_ seats that Cerberus had installed during the construction of the ship, the central pilot chair swivelled around revealing its familiar occupant Flight Lieutenant Jeff 'Joker' Moreau.

"Hey commander," Joker's voice was relaxed, casual as if the two men had just happened to meet whilst off-duty somewhere. "Been up to much? I hear Earth is real nice these days, less air pollution, over-population and rising sea levels. More super cultural marvel, booming economy and number one tourist destination in the galaxy."

"Didn't get to see much Joker," the commander replied in the same style of voice, "spent most of my time in the hotel suite." Shepard tilted his head towards the bridge windows and asked, "What's Cerberus up to now?"

The pilot's hands danced across the holographic controls in front of him and one of the monitors switched to an external view of the Normandy. The image it showed was of the gangway leading to the Normandy's port-side airlock and the group of Cerberus troopers standing at its base. "Trying to figure out how they're going to blast their way in here with just small-arms commander. Guess the Cerberus IQ requirement must have been lowered after we left huh?"

"They'll have breaching charges somewhere Joker, question is how long will it take for them to get here." Shepard rebuked the lieutenant and then turned his face up towards the overhead. "EDI, page Lieutenant Vega and tell him to report to the upper airlock immediately. Oh, and tell him to bring the other marine too."

"Of course Shepard," the AI replied.

"That's it?" Joker was incredulous, "That's our plan? Wait in the airlock and shoot them as they waltz in?"

"No that's our insurance play," Shepard informed the others, "just in case. EDI you said you only have local access to the quay-side comm-grid, does that include the dock clamps?"

"Affirmative, Shepard."

"Called it," Joker crowed, "you're going to steal the Normandy aren't you? See, what did I tell you EDI? Shepard's back and wham! Two seconds later we're off into crazy town again!"

"It has been 3 minutes and 46 seconds since Shepard came aboard Jeff," the AI pointed out. "You therefore did not 'call it' as your predicted schedule was in error."

"Minor detail EDI," Joker waved off the AI's objection, "I got the gist of things right and that's what counts. We're going to be renegades honey, on the run. Answerable to no-one but ourselves, we won't have to put up with all the political crap from the Council or the Alliance. We can…"

"I'm not stealing the Normandy, Joker." Shepard interrupted the ebullient pilot, "We're just moving her so we can get a clear signal out and _honey_?"

The pilot's hand reached up to the brim of his cap and tugged at it, "Err yeah that's kinda' personal Shepard, maybe we can talk about it later? And if we're only sending a call for help why get EDI to hack the docking clamps? Why not just get her to over-ride the hangar door and open it? That would work too."

"The hangar door is controlled from a terminal outside the protective shielding, Jeff. I cannot access it remotely." The AI sounded apologetic.

"Shepard knew that how exactly, EDI?"

"I didn't," Shepard admitted, "but even when we raise the alarm Cerberus could try boarding us before reinforcements arrived. It would be better if we moved the ship out of their reach, a fire fight aboard wouldn't be fun exactly."

"Amen to that, commander." Vega commented as he arrived, Marine Campbell just behind him. "So do we have a plan then?"

"Move the Normandy outside and then call in the cavalry." Shepard informed the two marines.

"I like it," Vega replied, "it's simple, direct, and better than taking on the whole of Cerberus in hand-to-hand combat."

Marine Campbell was not so convinced, "The Normandy's docked, aren't the clamps supposed to prevent ships from moving?" She asked.

"I can use some Spectre codes to over-ride them," Shepard lied. AIs where subject to strict controls in Citadel space and an unshackled, Cerberus developed, one violated nearly every regulation. The commander had deliberately not informed his superiors of EDI's true nature and he suspected that her continued presence aboard the Normandy meant that the Alliance remained oblivious to it. No point in blowing her cover he thought.

"Shepard," Joker interrupted, "I think the goons outside have gotten organised, a bunch of them are coming closer."

"Go," Shepard ordered the two marines. "Do whatever you can; I need to access the clamps to get us moving." The two marines moved to the airlock and the inner hatch slid shut behind them.

"Spectre codes huh," Joker commented, "think that they're going to buy that?"

EDI's holographic form winked back into being. "Council Spectre operatives are often accredited with almost super-natural abilities and resources, Jeff." If EDI had a physical body Shepard was sure he would have seen a slight smile curving her lips. "Without first hand knowledge of the limited nature of resources allocated to Spectres, it would not be unreasonable for the others to assume Shepard is telling the truth."

"Limited resources," Shepard grunted, "we had to salvage anything that wasn't welded to the deck just to cover our materials expenditures. When we rescued Liara, Ash and I where wearing patched, second-hand armour we had stripped off of a couple of dead mercenaries the week before." The commander shook off the memories, "What about the space door, can we use the main guns to blow it open?"

"No way, commander," Joker replied, "this hangar isn't large enough for us to turn around. Besides," he continued, "the Thanix cannons where dismantled to help the Turian's investigation for the intelligence leak that supplied classified, cutting-edge Hierarchy military hardware to a human terrorist group. I think they're a little pissed about it, especially after the Illusive Man released the schematics onto the extranet."

"If we can't swing about then how about using the main engines, the heat from the exhaust would burn straight through right?" Shepard asked.

"Well, yeah they would," Joker's hand tugged at the peak of his cap again. "But if you don't want to send us accelerating forward into the walls, we would have to use the forward thrusters as well for station keeping. We would melt the hangar door _and_ a large chunk of the shipyard, like everything in front of us maybe."

"Well we can't just ram the thing and hope it gives, Joker. Even with Tali's upgrades the kinetic barriers wouldn't hold if we started running into something that large." Shepard could feel his temper rising.

EDI interjected before Joker could respond. "Shepard, if we where to use the GARDIAN laser array to destroy sections of the three struts that extend and retract the door, it would significantly reduce the door's structural integrity. In such a scenario, a low-speed collision would not overload my kinetic barriers, but would result in the door 'giving' as you described."

"Get on that EDI," Shepard ordered, "and cut us loose from the dock before Cerberus comes aboard."

"Very well Shepard. You should be aware however that the targeting software for the GARDIAN array is not optimised for this kind of task." The AI paused and then said, "It will take me considerable time to develop a patch to correct for this."

"Just get it done EDI, fast as you can," Shepard stalked out of the bridge and entered the airlock.

The bridge fell silent at the commander's departure. "Jeff," EDI inquired, "You have often used humour in difficult situations, claiming that it 'lightens the mood' of organics. May I ask for your advice?"

"Err sure EDI, I suppose." Joker adjusted his cap, "What do you want to know?"

"You have expressed several favourable reactions to my efforts at humour in the past, but my most recent attempt garnered no reaction from either yourself or Shepard." The AI sounded puzzled, "Was I perhaps too subtle? I routinely perform thousands of calculations in the time it takes for a human to blink. As a result my perception of time is different to that of most organics; a considerable period of time to me is often described as 'a couple of minutes' by humans."

"No," Joker protested, "No, I got the joke honey. But Shepard's not always so good at picking up the subtle stuff. Besides I think something's got him kind of distracted, it might be better to leave it for now."

Shepard expected gunfire as he entered the airlock and whatever he had torn early sent pain shooting up his back as the commander's hand moved towards his slung rifle. Instead there was silence and the commander let his hand drop to hover over the pistol on his leg. Vega and Campbell lay prone on the deck with their rifles pointed out towards the ramp leading to the docks. At the far end of the ramp was the Cerberus force, the six reinforcements where filed behind their two ballistic shields whilst the other survivors where scattered behind anything that offered them any cover from the Normandy.

"James," Shepard addressed the lieutenant at his feet, "care to explain what's going on?"

"Cerberus says they want to talk," Vega reported, "they where half-way up the ramp when we came out, soon as they saw us they backed down." The lieutenant shifted his aim as a Cerberus trooper stepped forward past his colleagues, "Guess we have a designated speaker commander."

"Be ready," Shepard muttered to the lieutenant. Drawing his pistol drew a pained grunt from the commander. "That'll be close enough," he warned the approaching trooper.

"Shepard," the trooper had the same strange electronic distortion to his voice as the trooper from the shuttle bay, "somebody wants to speak to you." It wasn't the same distortion Shepard realised, it was the same voice. The trooper's arm came up and so did Shepard's. The trooper's hand was empty but surrounded by the holographic glow of an active omni-tool, Shepard's held a pistol.

The trooper's omni-tool projected an image and Kai Leng's face scowled at the commander. "Hand over the Normandy, Shepard," the Cerberus agent's voice rasped, "or I will take it, despite my instructions regarding your well-being."

Shepard lowered his pistol to a more comfortable position, hoping he masked the relief he felt from his protesting body as he did so. "What's up with your voice, screamed yourself hoarse as I beat you to the ship?

"I'm not here for your japes old man. Give me the Normandy, now."

"Old man, is that the best you have? Seriously I'm not much older than you," Shepard retorted, the more time he could steal by manipulating Kai Leng's ego meant less gunfire. "You may think those flash goggles make you seem cool, but they're not working for you."

"You are an old, tired man who can't even keep his weapon on a target anymore. With only a lawyer and a green recruit to fight for you against all of us, the only reason you're not already dead is because some in Cerberus think you still have value." The hologram's expression stayed the same, but Shepard could hear the smile in Leng's next words, "But the Normandy's more important and now _no-one_ would criticise me for killing you to return it to Cerberus."

"I'm not pointing a gun at a hologram," Shepard tried his best to ignore the Cerberus agent's last comment, "it looks ridiculous. It's not as if shooting it would accomplish anything, plus have you never heard the expression 'don't shoot the messenger'? You're simply not worth the time to threaten cupcake."

There was silence from the hologram, not even a flicker of change in its scowling countenance.

"I'm sorry cupcake," Shepard taunted. "Do you not like that name how about copy boy? New guy? Wannabe?" The air in front of Shepard flashed blue as the Normandy's kinetic barriers activated, deflecting _something_, and the shimmer of a malfunctioning optical camouflage screen appeared on the dock. Shepard saw Kai Leng appear as the agent's camouflage collapsed. The Cerberus agent lay prone on the deck with a distinctively large Widow rifle held tightly against his shoulder. Even as the commander's hand raised and his pistol joined in with the fire Vega and Campbell sent hurtling towards the Cerberus trooper who had projected the hologram decoy, Shepard saw the sniper smoothly replace the overheated thermal clip of his rifle.

The Cerberus messenger collapsed cut down by the fire from the Normandy crew. His fellow troopers seemed as surprised as Shepard by the sudden resumption of combat and they opened fire haphazardly, their shots impacting harmlessly against the Normandy's hull. The docking clamps that held the Normandy disengaged as the troopers grew more organised and the ship's kinetic barriers triggered once again as the dockside gangway retracted. Shepard watched as Kai Leng sprung up, leaving the powerful sniper rifle at his feet, drew a pistol and stab fired as the Normandy slid away from the quay and towards the closed hangar door. The airlock's outer hatch slid shut and Shepard returned his pistol to its holster.

The commander raised his hand, drawing a fresh stab of pain, and toggled his communicator. "Joker, what's the status of the GARDIAN array?"

"Just coming on-line, commander," the pilot's voice announced over the intercom, "everything looks green; going hot."

"What the hell are we using the GARDIAN for commander?" Vega demanded as he and Campbell stood up, "There might still be survivors on that dock, you can't just slag it to stop a dozen Cerberus thugs."

"We're using it to weaken the hangar door, lieutenant." Shepard grimaced as he led Vega and Campbell out of the airlock and onto the bridge. "It's the least destructive option we have. Cerberus has ensured we can't open the door remotely and it's too well secured for the Normandy to just ram through it."

"You know the admiralty is going to go nuts when they hear about this commander," Vega replied, "and when parliament finds out…"

"I know, but the alternative was letting Cerberus steal the Normandy," Shepard explained, "and kidnap my friends. I couldn't let that happen, so."

Joker's chair rotated as the trio arrived on the bridge, "Great timing Shepard, I've got the Cerberus commander on the comm. Now he can bitch at you instead of," the pilot's voice dropped into an imitation of Kai Leng's monotone voice, "Shepard's pet cripple."

"He's really going for hearts and minds, isn't he?" Shepard observed. "I'll listen to what he has to say. But let's not loiter too long, as soon as you can get us outside Joker."

"Aye aye, transferring your call, holding the ship in position _and_ manually aiming the GARDIAN lasers; isn't it great how I am the king of multi-tasking?" The pilot's chair swivelled back around to his display and Shepard saw EDI's blue avatar appear unobtrusively on an unused monitor. "You're on commander," Joker informed him.

"Cupcake," Shepard gave his voice a light, relaxed tone, "you had better start running if you want to escape."

"The next time we meet Shepard, I will kill you." Kai Leng's voice sounded across the bridge. "But first I'll hunt down your friends. Your tame Shadow Broker? We will have so much fun with her. The asari meld can be induced so easily, with the right chemicals, and the sensory feedback must be so _exquisite_ when they are forced to feel the suffering of another. Cerberus has broken so many asari through torture without ever needing to leave a scar. But for you, I'll carve your name onto every inch of that arrogant, blue skinned…"

Shepard's voice interrupted the Cerberus agent, "I've a lot of friends, cupcake, and you don't have much time. But I promise I'll come visit you in whatever tiny, rat-infested prison cell the Alliance seals you in and _then_ you can rant."

The Cerberus agent laughed, "Then I'll be brief. Do you remember Dr Chandana how he and his staff where left feeling exhausted, confused, on edge as they where slowly indoctrinated? Now tell me, how does Miranda look?"

Something in Shepard's voice broke. "Bullshit," the word was a plea, not a denial. The commander's mind already recalling the message Miranda had left on the omni-tool with his armour, the armour with the detail that matched the blue of her eyes. "Cerberus wouldn't," Shepard stopped, it was a pointless denial. The commander knew what Cerberus was capable of. "Why?" The word escaped from Shepard, the commander didn't want to know why, didn't need to know. It was an empty question, a stall, a decoy. Thrown out so that he could rally himself whilst his assailant chased after a ghost; defiance even after defeat.

"Because of you," Kai Leng's voice wasn't flat anymore the words seethed with hatred. "You took perfection and you marred it with your own…" the voice cut off.

"We've got to go Shepard," Joker's hand moved away from the communications panel, "the GARDIAN's finished. It's time to call in the troops."

"No, Joker wait," Shepard couldn't leave yet, he couldn't let Leng have the last word. He needed to prove that the Cerberus agent was lying, improvising, desperate. The commander felt Vega grip his shoulder.

"The pendejo is trying to stall us," the big marine gently pulled against Shepard as the commander's weight unconsciously shifted to take a step forward, "he's making a play for time. Don't let him."

Shepard wanted to break Vega's grip, he wanted to tell Joker to get Kai Leng back on the communicator. He wanted to forcibly pry the truth out of the traitorous Cerberus agent. He wanted Kai Leng to scream that he was lying, that Miranda was unharmed. Shepard wanted Miranda to be… and for that he realised, then he needed to win today. "Go," it was one word but it was the necessary word, it was the commander's order.

Joker toggled the ship's intercom, his voice echoing around the entire ship, "All hands brace for impact."

Shepard felt Vega's hand release his shoulder as the lieutenant and Campbell hurried into two of the empty bridge chairs. The commander just took a step forward and grasped onto Joker's seat, he didn't want the others to see him struggling into a chair with his bad back. Besides, he thought, if he fell then he could blame Joker's piloting for his injury. The helmsman looked up at him, as if he was asking if Shepard was sure about this. "Just go," the words where gritted and Shepard hoped the others would take it for anger or frustration instead of realising it was a result of the pain lancing through him.

Joker's hands performed their usual frantic dance as he controlled the Normandy, the pilot toggled the intercom again, "All hands, brace-brace-brace." Shepard tightened his grip, exhaled and a second after Joker's warning the entire ship jolted. The commander felt his grasp loosen from Joker's chair as his back protested and the shout it demanded was nothing more than a wheeze from his emptied lungs. But out of the windows in front of him he could see the exterior of Arcturus station as the Normandy slowly drifted away.

EDI's voice spoke into the commander's earpiece, "Structural damage is negligible Shepard. I am now attempting to access the main communications network." The AI was interrupted by a cacophony of alarms going off on the Normandy's bridge. "We are being targeted," the AI announced over the bridge speakers, "the vessel's transponder signal identifies it as the Alliance cruiser SSV Kinshasa."

"They're less than 800 metres away," Joker added, "and we're right in the kill box Shepard. If they start firing, something's going to hit us."

"Attention Cerberus vessel," EDI was routing the message from the other Alliance ship to the bridge speakers, "this is the SSV Kinshasa. You are ordered to return to dock immediately and surrender your vessel; failure to comply will incur a lethal response."

"EDI, we need communications," Shepard pleaded with the AI, "please tell me you have them."

"The Cerberus intrusion programmes are extremely adaptive and are actively resisting my efforts," the AI reported. "At this time Cerberus retains control of the communications network."

"Give me a tight-beam to the Kinshasa then EDI," Shepard ordered, "and get Cerberus off the network."

"Very well Shepard," the AI responded, "establishing tight-beam communication with the Kinshasa."

"SSV Kinshasa this is Commander Shepard aboard the Normandy. This vessel is not under Cerberus control; hold your fire and respond, over." The bridge was silent as they waited for the Kinshasa's response.

"Attention Cerberus vessel, this is the SSV Kinshasa. You are ordered to return to dock immediately and surrender your vessel; failure to comply will incur a lethal response."

Shepard cursed, "EDI, check the tight-beam do we have a signal?"

"All of our equipment is powered and functional Shepard, there is no possibility of a malfunction on our part." The AI sounded offended, "The SSV Kinshasa is simply not acknowledging our transmission."

"Kinshasa, this is Normandy. All communications via Arcturus are compromised. Cerberus has control of the dock, not this vessel. Please respond, over." Shepard turned to speak to Joker, "We're not going back to the dock, Joker. Cerberus doesn't get us or this ship, ever. Understood?"

The commander and the pilot shared a look. "Yeah," Joker sighed and adjusted his ball cap with both hands, "understood. Honey, this is going to be…"

"Hold on," Vega interrupted. The big lieutenant had left his chair and now stepped up next to Shepard's position behind the pilot's chair. "Why don't we just return to the dock but stay detached? The door is gone and the ship's _VI_," Vega's emphasis on the word showed that he at least now realised EDI's true nature, "should be able to connect with Arcturus and use the Cerberus codes."

Because it wasn't enough, Shepard realised. It might save the Normandy, EDI, Joker and the others but it _wasn't_ _enough_ not anymore. He wasn't just trying to save his friends Shepard admitted to himself, he was stealing the ship. The commander fixed his gaze on one of the active monitors at Joker's station so he couldn't meet anyone's eyes as he lied to them. "Because," he started.

"New contact," EDI reported, "no identifying transponder code." There was a flash through the bridge windows as the new ship fired and for a second a thin luminescent trail linked the newcomer to an explosion on the hull of the Kinshasa. The beam winked out and then a series of secondary explosions erupted through the Alliance cruiser's hull shattering it into three separate pieces, and surrounding them with a cloud of debris. EDI finished her report, "LADAR silhouette does not match any current military space craft."

"Dios santo," Vega breathed. Campbell and Joker where both too shocked to say anything.

"It's Cerberus," Shepard stated. He couldn't be sure, and he felt terrible for using the situation for his own ends, but he would. "We have to go, now. Joker!" the commander had to reclaim the pilot's attention, "Get us out of here right now."

"Aye aye," the pilot engaged the Normandy's engines, smoothly turned the ship and began accelerating away from the wreckage of the Kinshasa and her assailant.

"The unknown vessel is turning," the AI informed the others, "it is now attempting to target us."

"Do what you can EDI," Shepard replied, "and plot a course for the Citadel. Joker, impress me."

The view outside the Normandy's windows spiralled crazily as the pilot started twisting the frigate through a series of random course changes. "We're leaving?" Vega protested. "We can't leave! The Arcturus network is still under Cerberus control." The marine pointed aft with his thumb, "That thing could take our ships out piece-meal; we can't just run!"

"They're after us, not the fleet James," Shepard couldn't let them stay. "We leave; Cerberus has no reason to stay behind. If they try chasing us to the Citadel, well there's a lot of firepower there now-a-days."

"I have a course plotted Shepard, and all pre-FTL checks are now complete. No system errors have been reported." As soon as EDI finished her report Joker was reacting. The view outside the bridge window stabilised as the pilot brought the Normandy onto EDI's indicated heading, then transformed into the familiar distortion of FTL travel.

Shepard could see the big marine clench his hands into fists. "Go check on Westmoreland and the other injured James," the commander kept his voice empty, professional. "Do what you can."

"Aye aye, sir," Vega's acknowledgement mirrored the commander's tone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Citadel Space Station, Widow Nebula**

Shepard hurried towards the freight elevator at the end of the wharf. Behind him the commander could hear the ramp into the Normandy's cargo bay raising again, re-sealing the ship. The dock holding Normandy had been designed to house cargo ships much larger than the Alliance frigate, allowing Joker to bring the entire ship inside. With the false transponder ID that had gotten them past the warships patrolling the nebula outside, the only way someone could identify the Normandy now would be to enter the same dock themselves. At least not until the Normandy contacted C-Sec, Shepard hoped. The Spectre pulled his borrowed civilian jacket tighter, away from the heavily climate regulated Presidium larger spaces on the Citadel tended to be cooler than Shepard found comfortable, especially whilst wearing a still damp dress shirt. The ship's laundry facilities hadn't been removed during the Alliance's retro-fit and Shepard had done his best to repair the damage to his dress blues. Going to confront the Council whilst wearing a blood-stained and torn Alliance uniform sounded dramatic, but in practicality wandering through the Citadel covered in blood would likely involve only C-Sec officers and time in the brig, and the commander was too unsure of his Spectre clearances to risk invoking them.

Shepard stepped into the over-sized elevator and watched the doors slide closed, cutting him off from the Normandy. He had thirty minutes grace before Joker would contact C-Sec or the Alliance embassy, maybe less if Lieutenant Vega woke up and discovered they where already docked, definitely less if anyone had the dock under surveillance. The commander dug a credit chit out of one the jacket's pockets, the owner had warned him that there wasn't much in the account but it should suffice to cover a cab-ride to the Presidium.

Admiral David Anderson waited impatiently as the elevator seemed to crawl its way towards the C-Sec Commander's office. The Admiral had just finished reporting to the Citadel Council about the Cerberus attack on Arcturus Station, the loss of the SSV Kinshasa and the destruction of Alliance Naval Headquarters. It had been an unpleasant public discussion which had only been exacerbated when Anderson had, as ordered, asked the Councillors to return the two Alliance fleets assigned to Council missions. The Council had agreed, but the price had been a public dressing down from the non-human Councillors and Anderson understood that was why he had been picked to deliver parliament's message. The politicians back at Arcturus hadn't wanted to compromise the authority of either Councillor Udina or Ambassador Osaba by having _them_ publically humiliated by the Citadel Council.

The elevator finally reached its destination and stopped. As the doors slid open David Anderson gathered himself. The admiral had met Bailey a couple of times before the Council had chosen the human Citadel Security Service Captain to replace Tomac Selle, the temporary salarian C-Sec Commander following the resignation of Executor Pallin. Those meetings had mostly involved Anderson trying to protect the reputation of the Systems Alliance Military and the future careers of drunken Alliance personnel who had ended their shore leave in a C-Sec cell. The Alliance Admiral strode out of the elevator and across the room until he was standing before the desk of the C-Sec commander's turian assistant.

The turian had jumped to his feet as Anderson approached. "Admiral Anderson," the C-Sec officer stood at drill-manual perfect, parade attention, "please proceed sir. Commander Bailey was explicit in his orders that you be allowed immediate access." At Anderson's nod the turian relaxed slightly and discretely tapped a control on his desk's console.

"Carry on," those weren't the right words Anderson knew, even as he turned and walked towards the commander's door. The turian wasn't a subordinate officer waiting to be dismissed he was…he was a turian Anderson admitted, and if he had been an asari or a salarian or even a hanar then. The admiral paused in front of the now open door, "Thank you, Officer…?"

"Culsa Aeitus," supplied the turian.

"…Officer Aeitus," Anderson finished. The admiral knew he had no right to take out his frustrations with the Council and Systems Alliance Parliament on junior officers, but today was proving difficult.

The admiral stepped into the commander's office, and towards the two men sitting around the C-Sec commander's desk. Commander Armando-Owen Bailey rose to his feet at Anderson's arrival and after a second of hesitation so did the man sat opposite him. David Anderson stopped in shock as he recognised him.

"Found him getting out of a cab by the Citadel Tower," Bailey drawled. "Said he was on his way to talk with the council, but as they where busy reaming you out I suggested that he wait here instead. Then I figured the two of you might want to talk whilst the Councillors listen to the volus about banking services tariffs, again."

"Anderson," there was a tension in Shepard's voice as he greeted his former CO.

"Where the hell have you been? What the hell happened?" Anderson's voice was a mixture of frustration and relief as the questions fired out of him, "Did your mother make it out too?"

Shepard bristled at the admiral's questions, once again feeling the now familiar surge of anger and betrayal at being interrogated by yet another Alliance officer – even Anderson. The room fell into an awkward silence as Anderson waited impatiently for a reply from his friend, and the commander wrestled with the urge to shout at his.

"Admiral," Bailey tried to repair the rift between the two Alliance officers. "I don't think he's heard about the Cerberus attack on…"

"…on Arcturus station?" Shepard interrupted the C-Sec Chief, but his voice was calmer now. "I know about it. I was there." He could talk to Bailey, the commander realised and through him Anderson. "I beat Cerberus to the Normandy," Shepard resumed after the three men sat. "But communications with Arcturus where compromised, we couldn't get a message out." The commander's right hand tapped against the armrest of his chair, "I had to run, there was a Cerberus cruiser and we had civilians aboard." Shepard's eyes closed, "I couldn't risk…" but he couldn't lie to Anderson either. The Alliance Commander opened his eyes and finally faced his friend fully, "I couldn't go back to just sitting in that cell Anderson, I'm sorry. I needed to…" Shepard's voice trailed off.

"_You_ stole the Normandy?" Anderson sounded relieved, "Everyone thinks that was Cerberus! Especially after they destroyed," the admiral's voice choked off, "especially after they destroyed Naval Headquarters."

"How? Why?" Shepard was stunned, "They know the Reapers are coming; why would Cerberus cripple us now? How does this benefit them or humanity, or anyone?"

"We think the main gun on their cruiser is an advanced version of the turian's Thanix cannon," Anderson explained, delaying what he knew had to happen. "The barriers and armour around headquarters pre-date the First Contact War, and since parliament never approved the funding needed to overhaul them." The admiral shook his head, "It took Cerberus less than three minutes of firing to completely destroy the whole complex." David Anderson took a breath, "Shepard, I'm sorry. Your mother was at headquarters when they where hit. Rescue teams are looking but…but they haven't found any survivors yet. They'll keep trying…but they're not holding out much hope."

"Why?" Shepard's voice failed him. He started again, "What was she doing at headquarters? She's the captain of the Orizaba, the flagship of the Fifth Fleet!" The commander's voice grew louder as he stood up, "The Fifth's supposed to be in the Minos Wasteland, on a peace-keeping mission for the Council! Why would she be at headquarters, Anderson?"

Anderson met his friend's eyes, "To see you." The admiral's hands clenched as he saw the younger man halt, "To see her son, to tell him that he wasn't alone, to tell you that not everyone in the Alliance believes that her child is an out-of-control, sociopathic, traitor."

The commander stood, motionless. "It doesn't make any sense, why now? Why would Cerberus hamstring us now? Why take the time to murder…" Shepard couldn't finish that sentence.

"There was a message," Bailey spoke into the silence. "A basic audio file sent to every omni-tool on Arcturus station." The C-Sec officer activated his desk-top console, "Someone forwarded it to the human embassy here on the Citadel and they made a copy for C-Sec." He found the file, "We've got a dozen VI running comparison tests; we'll get a name."

The audio file started. "The Alliance Military has failed to protect humanity," the voice was clean, unmasked by any electronic modulation or distortions. "They failed to stop the Turian," the speaker could have been in the room, directly addressing the three men. "They failed to stop the geth invasion of our colonies. They failed to stop the abductions of thousands of humans by the Collectors. These failures must be accounted for; their incompetence cannot be allowed to endanger our race anymore. Cerberus will protect humanity from its enemies. "

Shepard stumbled backwards into his chair as the message repeated.

"You recognise the voice, you know who's speaking." The C-Sec Commander wasn't asking a question but Shepard answered anyway.

"No," Shepard whispered, and realised he didn't know if was lying or admitting a hideous truth, as Miranda Lawson pronounced her death sentence on his mother and hundreds of other Alliance personnel.

The commander could feel the weight of the other two men's gaze, they where waiting for an answer, whilst his mind struggled. Finally one of them took a breath in preparation of asking the question and Shepard realised he was out of time.

"I recognise the voice," Shepard preempted. "It sounds like Miranda she's," Shepard's eyes flicked away. "We worked together on the Normandy during the Collector mission." The commander looked back at the others and spoke the next words clearly. "But it doesn't make any sense she's not like this, not anymore. Something like this is completely out of character for her." Shepard couldn't find the right words, he needed more time. "This is wrong, something's wrong here."

"If she's Cerberus, what's so different about her?" Anderson asked his friend, "They've never been shy about killing Alliance personnel. Hell you've seen it yourself, that business with Kohaku, their experiments with Thorian spores and the Rachni, even your unit on Akuze. She saw a chance to decapitate our military and she took it. Maybe she thought it was chance at revenge after all their losses recently."

Shepard's fingers drummed against both armrests of his chair, he doubted whether he could convince the two superior officers in the room that Miranda could be trusted. He wasn't even sure that _he_ should fully trust the blue-eyed Cerberus Operative anymore. But the massacre at Arcturus was not something Miranda would choose to do, Shepard believed; pointedly ignoring that part of his mind that repeated Kai Leng's claims of indoctrination.

"It doesn't make sense," the fingers ceased their drumming. "Cerberus never gives you a clear target, the Illusive Man has successfully kept his identity hidden for years. Even their line infantry now speak with synthesised voices to conceal their identities." The commander leaned forward towards the men he had to convince, "Why would they use her to deliver their message. Cerberus knew I had escaped with the Normandy, they had to realise I could identify Miranda and that I would know where to find her. For that matter why use Miri at all, every other time Cerberus has gone public it's always been the Illusive Man talking. That bastard's voice is practically their most widely recognised trademark."

"Maybe he ended up dead," Bailey suggested, "maybe someone finally tracked him down and put a bullet through his head. Who knows? None of this clears your friend though Shepard."

The commander shook his head, "I _know her_, this…" Shepard paused. "He's repeating himself," he realised, "The Illusive Man is repeating himself; he's isolating her - like he did me." Shepard's fingers started drumming against the armrests again, "Miranda's found something; something that she knows has to be shared with us. But she must have alarmed the Illusive Man somehow, so he...so he destroyed headquarters and posted that message, trapping her. If Miri tries approaching the Alliance now; they'd shoot her out-of-hand."

Shepard cut off as the door leading back to the outer C-Sec office hissed open. A salarian in combat armour stood silhouetted in the open frame, his weapons holstered but within easy reach. "Gentleman, I'm Jondum Bau, from the office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance." The Spectre's hand drifted closer to the pistol on his belt as Shepard rose and grasped his chair, "The Council doesn't wish for Shepard to be delayed further before making his report to them."

Shepard released his grip on the chair as Anderson and Bailey both rose to their feet, if the salarian Spectre was unsettled by the unfriendly stares directed at him by the three humans it didn't show. Jondum's hand moved away from his pistol, "Shepard, we should go."

Shepard deliberately turned his back on the impatient Spectre, "Anderson, Bailey, about my mother...thank you." The commander shook hands with both men before he left with the other Spectre.

The Admiral and the C-Sec Chief waited for the door to close again and lock before returning to their seats. "You know him better Admiral," Bailey said, "Do you think he's onto something?"

The Admiral's breath huffed out. "I don't know," Anderson admitted, "I know this Miranda woman and him are more involved than he ever admitted in his debriefings, and that worries me."

"You caught that too, huh?" Bailey shook his head, "If he doesn't wisen up and the Council picks up on that, they might think that he really has gone over to Cerberus."

"Not Shepard," Anderson interrupted, "not him. He's proven himself too many times in the past."

"Everyone has a breaking point admiral," the C-Sec Commander looked at a point far beyond the man sitting opposite him. "Sometimes when a person's given up as much as Shepard has, he can suddenly realise that he's not willing to sacrifice what little is left." Bailey re-focused on the admiral, "But do you think Shepard is right about the Illusive Man trying to trap one of his own? Or is he so tangled up that he's reaching for an explanation that just ain't there?"

Anderson sat silently for a moment, thinking. "I trust Shepard," the admiral stated, "but you saw him and the news about his mother? He's on the edge, confused and wounded." Anderson had to be a realist, "I think he's going to need support, to either help him if he's right or to help him back if he's wrong."

"Hope you have someone to hand that fits the role then," Bailey commented, "would probably be an idea if you sent them to Zakera ward dock, Echo fifteen." The head of C-Sec stood, "Better do it fast before the Council orders the dock sealed, for security reasons and I have to order a patrol there to do it." As the two men walked to the door, Bailey explained, "I've a couple of folk running surveillance not really enough to create a secure perimeter, might have to juggle personnel around to free up enough bodies. Who knows?"

The two men separated at the door, Bailey returning to his desk whilst Anderson entered the elevator that would return him to the Presidium. As soon as the lift started moving Anderson keyed his omni-tool to open a secure communication link. "Chief, grab whatever gear you can and whoever else from your unit is handy and get to the location I'm sending to your omni-tool now," the admiral ordered. "Shepard and the Normandy have turned up, you're to report aboard and get sited," he talked over the other person's objections, "I'm cutting your new orders as we speak, get busy marine."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** For **Endrius** - if you're still here, sorry for the wait!

**Citadel Space Station, Widow Nebula**

"…the council has approved their Spectre status admiral," Councillor Donnel Udina's voice grated at Anderson from the display on the admiral's desk, "and that is the end of the matter. _We_, the Council, have made our decision. As for the Normandy, Spectres are outside of the Alliance chain of command and as the Systems Alliance has repeatedly claimed that their seizure of the Cerberus frigate makes it an Alliance vessel – the Council has no say over who her captain should be. If Alliance Military Command has decided that Shepard is no longer fit to command, they are entitled to replace him."

"Councillor Udina, under Shepard's command the Normandy has saved the Citadel Council, ended the attacks on human colonies out in the Terminus and…" Anderson reminded the politician.

"And also destroyed a Mass Relay, killing thousands of batarian civilians," the Councillor interjected. "Considering the circumstances I cannot blame parliament for wanting someone more reliable to command the ship. If only to insure that should Shepard go rogue again, he could not do so with one of the most advanced vessels in Council Space." Udina sighed, "Admiral I agree that Shepard should command the Normandy. Despite my original misgivings, the commander was a boon in promoting humanity's standing in the galactic community. Because of his actions we have a seat in the Council and now a second Spectre, but he's made his share of political enemies as well and they've won this round." The politician shook his head, "Parliament's proposed replacement is not an unreasonable choice admiral."

Admiral Anderson lifted a PADD from the clutter on his desk. "Staff Commander Maya Brooks, recipient of the Star of Terra, saviour of the colony on Elysium," the admiral flatly listed, "currently the Executive Officer on the SSV Hawking, with a near perfect collection of 'outstanding' on her fitness reports, and a former protégé of Admiral Kahoku." Anderson paused deliberately then added, "Before his death." The PADD returned to the admiral's desk, "On paper she seems an ideal candidate, I'm surprised she's still waiting for her first command."

Councillor Udina frowned slightly, "I know you and Kahoku held differing opinions Anderson. But he died more than two years ago and Brooks' career is testament to her skill and her commitment to the Alliance. Frankly I don't understand why she was not submitted as a Spectre candidate during our initial discussions, before Eden Prime."

"Kahoku didn't believe in the Council and the Spectres, councillor." Anderson replied, "he didn't want to see his protégé 'sacrificed' just to 'make nice' with the Council."

Udina's frown deepened, "I see, and do you believe Brooks has inherited her former mentor's insular mindset?"

"I don't know, councillor," was Anderson's honest reply. "There's no mention of it in her fitness reports and the Hawking has been in several joint missions with other races during her time there." The admiral gave a small shrug, "If it was an issue I'm sure she has managed to overcome it. My real concern is how she and Shepard are going to react, Shepard's father died on Elysium whilst fighting alongside Brooks and her mentor was murdered by the organisation the commander later worked alongside."

"I see," Udina fell silent for a moment and Anderson could almost see the councillor's mind working away, planning on how he could use the information, what new options this revelation opened for him. "Yes," the councillor drawled, "I think that could prove useful Anderson." The politician returned his focus to the admiral, "But for now Shepard, and you, will have to accept the situation. Shepard will command the mission, whilst Brooks has command of the Normandy." The image of the politician reached forward, "Good _night_ Anderson," the small hologram wavered then disappeared as the link was closed.

David Anderson leaned back into his chair. The soft lighting in his office gave the room a gentle, relaxed aura. The admiral ran a hand tiredly down his face whilst the other reached for a cup resting on his desk, raising it to his mouth. A mouth that twisted into a grimace at the taste of cold tea and the sudden realisation of how much time had passed since he had sat down to talk with humanity's Councillor. Anderson powered down the console, stood and walked to the kitchen area that looked out onto what the building's architect called a 'dual social area'. A touch of a hieroglyph on a small wall panel caused the windows to slowly darken, as a small electrical charge rearranged their molecules. The system was programmed to create an effect that reminded Anderson of a series of large wooden slats being closed, slowly descending from the out-of-reach summit of the windows down to where they met the floor. A touch on a second hieroglyph lowered the apartment's lighting to the same gentle glow that filled his now empty office. As Anderson placed his cup away to be washed, a soft chime rang through the empty-feeling apartment drawing him away from the kitchen and towards the door that led out to the rest of the Citadel. A quick glance at the entry screen showed Shepard waiting on the other side of the door.

Anderson toggled the door release and after the door slid open, greeted his friend. The commander had changed out of the remains of his dress blues and the garish orange sleeveless jacket he had been wearing before. Shepard's clothing was now all nondescript civilian, off-the-shelf garments in more natural colours, the jacket he was wearing hid the small pistol in a concealed hip holster well enough Anderson doubted he would have seen it if his door scanner hadn't alerted him.

"I didn't mean to disturb you admiral, I can come back at a better time." For a second Anderson was reminded of the young boy he had first met all those years ago on the SSV Einstein, the child of two fellow officers, and the only eight year old onboard who hadn't wanted to enlist as soon as he could.

"No, it's all right. I was going to review personnel reports," Anderson stepped aside allowing the younger man to enter. "To be honest I would welcome a hanar preacher who wanted to tell me the complete history of the Enkindlers right about now," the door closed behind Shepard as the commander entered. The admiral led the way to the small bar that overlooked a trio of couches facing a large wall-screen. "Drink?" he asked.

Shepard pulled a clear bottle out of the small kit-bag slung on his shoulder, "We'll need a couple of glasses."

Anderson lifted two large tumblers and they walked over to the couches. After they had comfortably seated themselves, Shepard opened the bottle and poured a generous measure into both glasses. The admiral handed a glass over to the commander and the two men sat silently for a moment. Finally the admiral lifted his glass, "The Systems Alliance," he proposed.

Anderson suppressed a flinch at the twisted, bitter grimace his friend made as the commander raised his own glass. "The Systems Alliance," Shepard echoed back dully. The two men took a large swallow from their glasses.

"Smooth," the admiral wheezed as the liquor finished burning its way down his throat whilst leaving an unpleasant aftertaste of brine, peppers and raw grain alcohol. The only consolation available was the pained look on Shepard's face as the commander struggled with his drink too. Anderson scooped up the bottle and examined it, he couldn't translate the alien script but he recognised the asari language. "Are you sure we're supposed to drink this stuff?" he asked his friend.

Shepard's own struggle with the asari drink left the commander struggling for breath whilst the room threatened to blur before his eyes. "Yes," Shepard broke off to cough. "Liara claimed it's highly prized back on Thessia," the commander blinked his eyes clear before continuing. "She said it was a shame we never had a bottle back on the old Normandy."

"Dr T'Soni drinks this?" Anderson had trouble picturing the meek archaeologist he had met three years ago enjoying a drink that had left the two experienced soldiers gasping. The admiral shook his head, returned the bottle to Shepard and stood. "Why don't you save the rest of the bottle for her," he suggested as he walked back over to the bar. Shepard rose and followed him, leaving the over powering alien drink on the floor next to the couch.

Anderson reached under the counter and brought up two bottles of beer, an opener appeared next and the two caps clinked off the wooden bar. The two men took a long grateful pull from their respective bottle, chasing away the potent asari liquor and the apartment fell into a less fraught silence than earlier.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Anderson told his friend. "She was proud of you, always was. After you were reported dead two years ago, she…"

"Please," the commander interrupted, "Anderson, don't, not right now, I can't…" Shepard struggled for control of his own voice. "I can't think about that now, I have a mission to plan. I…I don't have the time."

"That's not healthy Shepard," was his friend's gentle rejoinder. "You know better than to do this again. Akuze, Elysium, you tried repressing then and it didn't work. You need to talk about today."

"I will, just not now Anderson," Shepard forestalled the admiral's next comment. "Yes I'll make the time - I just need to get myself ready first." The commander took another long drink from his beer, "I came here for some information before the Normandy's new captain arrives, I think you owe me that much at least."

"What do I owe you for?" the admiral objected, "We've been friends for a long time Shepard, what's changed that?"

"You sent Ash after me, Admiral. You could have easily whistled up a troop or two of N7s from Arcturus, or asked Udina for a Spectre deployment instead." The commander's fingers tightened around his bottle, "Hell with all the havoc we caused for the big three mercenary outfits, they'd have probably taken the job for whatever change was in your pockets." Shepard shook his head, "Instead you sent a marine Operations Chief with no special forces training out into the Terminus. You sent my friend to track down the one ship in the galaxy specifically designed to escape detection. You sent her on a nigh-impossible mission for what Anderson? Why? Was it to kill her career again? You brought her onto the Normandy three years ago, you gave her the chance to prove herself and she did time and again. What does she have to do to get clear of her father's reputation?"

"Is this about you or about Chief Williams?" Anderson asked. "But since you asked, I'll answer. I sent Williams because she needed to prove she could get the job done, not to me, but to the Council and Arcturus. I sent her to bring you home, whilst Arcturus sent out squads of N7s and those mercenaries hunted for you, both running into the batarians everywhere they went. For all I know the Council could have sent teams of Spectres out looking for you. But the chief beat them all, she found you first and she brought you back alive, if slightly worn." Anderson took a final pull from his beer, "She didn't need to step out of her father's shadow anymore, Shepard. She needed to break free of yours." The admiral saw the look of sudden comprehension on his friend's face, "Yes, we needed a replacement for you. It took the chief and me two years to get her ready for a shot at making Spectre. We needed to persuade Udina, Arcturus _and_ the rest of the Council, all of whom had reservations. But Hackett and I wanted someone who knows the truth about the Reapers, who could investigate, help us prepare, especially as the Council is adamant that Sovereign was a one-off threat." Anderson brought up two fresh bottles of beer, opened them and handed one to Shepard before resuming. "Then you came back, but you where with Cerberus, so the chief and I kept going. We where nearly ready anyway, then you handed over the Collector Base to the Illusive Man and destroyed that mass relay in the Bahak system. So I sent Williams out to save you, because it was the quickest way to prove her ready and because you're my friend. The only child of two old friends and because I couldn't be sure the others would bring you in alive Shepard. I think a lot of powerful people would have been happier to see you killed while attempting to escape."

Shepard took a long drink from the fresh bottle. "I'm sorry Anderson," he apologised. "I shouldn't have…" doubted you, where the words Shepard wanted to say, but couldn't. "I should have thought it through better. I should have trusted you - just after the Collector Base, Ash and Liara tag-teaming me and then the Alliance throwing me into a cell on Earth. Maybe I don't know which way is up anymore."

"Williams never said Dr T'Soni helped her. Her report only mentions an un-named asari mercenary who worked for the Shadow Broker."

Shepard took another mouthful of beer as his eyes danced away from the admiral, "I thought it was Liara, must have been wrong. Those stun grenades Ash's squad used have scrambled me more than I realised."

Anderson slowly nodded, "Didn't seem to slow you too much, you still took down two marines fairly sharply."

The commander grunted, "I got lucky. If they had been really serious about it they would have wiped the floor with me." Shepard downed the rest of the bottle, "About Ash, tell her I hope she makes Spectre soon."

"She did," Anderson replied, "I just finished speaking to Udina, the Council approved her nomination."

"That's good," Shepard sounded uncertain. The commander pushed the empty bottle away and said more confidently, "she'll make a good Spectre; she deserves it."

"Yes she does," Anderson reached out and gripped Shepard's forearm before the commander could move away. "She's still your friend Shepard, talk to her when you get back to the Normandy." The admiral released his friend, "Another beer?"

* * *

The mattress was firmer than the one in his cabin back on the Normandy, harder even than the prison matt back on Earth. Shepard stretched, at least the bad was spacious enough to do that without threatening to send him tumbling to the floor and the sheets felt much too luxurious to be Alliance standard issue. Despite the large number of beers Shepard had drunk last night, the commander felt no worse than he would have as a fresh-faced twenty year old lieutenant. Yet another reminder of just how extensively Miranda –Cerberus– had rebuilt him after the Collectors' destruction of the first Normandy, the commander realised.

Shepard got out of the bed, stretched some more to limber up and started his morning exercises – his back gave a slight twinge as he finished, but a hot shower helped quieten it again. The commander had to rummage through Anderson's kitchen to make a simple breakfast and Shepard came to the conclusion that his friend ate out on an almost daily basis. Thankfully during the search Shepard had found the dishwasher and after finishing loaded it with his used utensils, the commander finally accessed the omni-tool on his wrist that had been sullenly glowing with a 'received message' icon since he had awoken. The first message was from Admiral Anderson giving him an updated ETA for Commander Brooks, a quick check of the time told Shepard he had a little over five hours before Brooks would take command. The second message was more important, it was from Barla Von the Shadow Broker's agent on the Citadel. Well the agent that Shepard knew about, the commander was sure she had others on the station. The message wasn't long, in fact it was brutally succinct, it merely told Shepard that the Shadow Broker's 'representative' would met him in the Ryuusi restaurant at… The commander blinked and double-checked the time; it was exactly the same as Anderson's message about Brooks assuming command. Given the events of their last meeting, Shepard doubted the Shadow Broker had _coincidently_ scheduled a clash. Shepard could feel his lips curling back as he read the stipulation that he was to come alone and unarmed, if the Shadow Broker wanted to play games then the Spectre would too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Citadel Space Station, Widow Nebula**

The restaurant was bustling, the serving staff moved smoothly between the tables whilst the diners chatted and the sounds of the chefs at work in the visible kitchen nearby drifted across the room. Well most of the diners talked, around two tables the flow of conversation was stilted and forced, as if those customers were unaccustomed to sharing a meal together. At one sat an asari matron who was attempting to draw her krogan dining companion into a conversation, at the other sat the only two human Spectres in the galaxy.

"Shepard," Operations Chief Ashley Williams complained, "Brooks gets on the Normandy in about thirty minutes. I don't think pissing her off, by not being there, is a good way to get introduced, right?"

"We'll be fine chief," Shepard replied as he watched the asari and krogan finally leave their table and walk away. The serving staff hurried over to the now empty table resetting it for three diners whilst the Spectre gave his ear a gentle tap, "Besides I think my source has just arrived."

Williams smiled brightly at her former CO and leaned across the table towards him. "That asari and krogan are talking to a drell by the door," she muttered before adding, "and again, I _hate_ this spy crap."

Shepard's smile was no more natural than the chief's, "Suck it up, Williams. Besides if this goes sideways, it'll stop being 'spy crap' and could turn into something a lot more unpleasant."

"The asari and the krogan just left," the chief reported. "Hold on another asari's entered, the drell's talking to her," the smile fell from Williams' face and she pulled away from Shepard. "You bastard, you utter bastard," she hissed, "This isn't Spectre business. This is you picking a fight with your ex."

"This is Spectre business chief," Shepard's own smile had faded too. "Liara is an information broker but given…our history…I need her to know what I'm going to ask, isn't a personal request." This time the commander leaned across the table, "That's why you're here, to back me up – and to stop Liara from bouncing me off the floor again if necessary."

"Right," Shepard's companion sounded less than convinced, "and who's meant to keep you in line?"

Shepard's quick smile was genuine as he told her, "You are Williams." The smile vanished, "and maybe some drell called Ferrol, Fennel – something like that."

"Well you better remember his name fast because they're coming this way," the other Spectre responded, "and just so you know, Liara looks really unhappy."

Shepard passed on the opportunity to comment, instead taking a mouthful of Mecha green tea to counter his suddenly dry mouth and moving his leg slightly just to check the pistol he had hidden to the underside of the table was still there. The former Alliance commander felt his shoulders threaten to slump, he couldn't continue this for much longer. Too many people looked askance at him after his time with Cerberus, with Miranda; people like the beautiful asari that was approaching with her new drell boyfriend. Like the marine sat opposite who was watching him with the same intensity she watched the rest of the restaurant for threats. Like the series of interrogators all asking how long had he really been a Cerberus agent. Hadn't he conspired with them to build the second Normandy? Wasn't he complicit in the murder of Admiral Kahoku? Hadn't he really known of the Thresher Maws on Akuze before they attacked?

"Chief Williams, congratulations on becoming a Spectre." Liara's voice had been such a balm in the past, always so clear and expressive, her emotions so clear. Her enthusiasm at seeing her former shipmate sounded almost girlish, which made the ice that coated her next words even more evident. "Shepard, I hope you're enjoying that meal."

Shepard looked up and tried to smile, but the rage in Liara's eyes strangled it before he could begin. His own temper stirred, "Not really, it's too bitter for my taste." The Spectre's chopstick darted out and skewered a small section of blue fish, "I wish I could remember what it's called. I suppose I'll just have to avoid bitter, blue things in the future." Shepard let his other hand drift below the table as the asari's eyes grew hotter.

"Does the perfect Miss Lawson realise her toy has memory flaws? Or did she build it that way deliberately?" The ice in the asari's voice had definitely cracked.

"Hooo boy," Williams' voice was strangled, "can you at least introduce me to the new guy before we get thrown out?"

Shepard and Liara both answered at the same time, their voices growing louder as they tried to talk over one another, before falling silent and glaring at each other.

Ashley Williams fought the urge to bury her face in her palms and sighed.

"My name is Feron," Liara's companion introduced himself, breaking the tense silence but keeping his gaze focused on Shepard. "I work with Doctor T'Soni and help protect her when she insists on dangerous confrontations." The drell's attention briefly flickered over to the marine as he said, "It is a pleasure to meet you Ashley Williams."

The maître d' who had been escorting Liara and Feron nervously asked if perhaps they would prefer to continue to their table, and it was possibly their stammering voice that tampered the anger of the former couple. Shepard rose and politely asked, "Dr T'Soni, Fennel," he pointedly ignored any correction, "would you please join Chief Williams and me?"

Liara ignored her companion's slight head shake, "Of course, and since you have already ordered perhaps Ashley could recommend something?" The asari's smile was too brittle and Shepard regretted fighting her - no, he regretted hurting her. Three years ago he had rescued a young, shy asari scientist from a Prothean ruin, he had shielded her from geth troopers and he had even gotten into a fist fight with the krogan battle-master who had tried to kidnap her–thankfully Garrus had shot the krogan before the son-of-a-bitch could rip a certain brash lieutenant-commander apart. Afterwards, he had defended her when some of his crew had openly questioned his decision about letting her stay aboard and he had been there for her after the death of her mother on Noveria, just as she had been there for him after Udina and the Council had grounded the original Normandy and they had come together again en-route to Ilos. Once, Shepard would have been thrilled to take Liara dining somewhere like the Ryuusi, but that person was gone. He had lost her in the years between the fire-fight over Alchera and then the meeting in her office on Illium, years Liara had spent in a singular and increasingly bitter crusade against the Shadow Broker.

The maître d' left the small group once the other servers arrived and began setting new places, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Shepard used the pause to try calming himself, not an easy task whilst Liara's gaze felt like a targeting laser painting him. Finally the restaurant staff finished and moved away.

"How's the weather on Hagalaz?" Shepard inwardly winced at the banality of the question, but he needed to restart the conversation somehow – and Liara's cold stare was more disturbing than he would ever admit. The Spectre realised his hand was gently brushing the pistol hidden under the table and slowly moved his arm back above the table. From the corner of his eye he could see the drell relax slightly as his empty hand came into view. Shepard put his elbow on the table and rested his chin against his fingers before asking the silent, staring Liara, "Still exciting?"

"We wouldn't know," the ice was back in full force, "shortly after Chief Williams left with you, a Cerberus cruiser arrived, Feron and I where the only ones who managed to escape." Liara's fingers tapped against the table-top, "_My_ organisation has suffered considerable disruption, only a fraction of the original data-network could be saved."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shepard lied. Truthfully he had always found the Shadow Broker's galaxy spanning web of informers and assassins more frightening than helpful and Liara's single-minded obsession with destroying the entity behind the moniker had warped the asari archaeologist. The Shadow Broker's eyes tightened, unfortunately even the new warped Liara was still Liara and she knew him well enough to tell when he was lying.

"I'm sure Cerberus was distraught at their utter failure," even Liara's smile was cold. "Her expensive toy captured, their cruiser destroyed and their new Normandy in the hands of the Alliance." The Shadow Broker's fingers stopped as she added, "Perhaps Miss Lawson is studying Collector technology so avidly in the hope of fixing her defective toy, or maybe she's hoping to correct her own failing."

Shepard realised his hands had formed into fists hovering just above the table. "I. Am. Not. A. Toy," the words grated from him. The Spectre started the next sentence slowly, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to finish it, "I am Commander…"

"_You_ are not Shepard," the ice in the Shadow's Broker voice was gone, replaced by something hot and venomous. "_Shepard_ would never have worked for the organisation that butchered his friends on Akuze. _Shepard_ would never have handed the Collector Base over to terrorists. _Shepard_ would never have massacred an entire system by exploding a Mass Relay. Whatever you _are_, you are not him."

The accusations hurt, even though he had provoked Liara into finally voicing them. The same doubt had been lingering in his mind ever since the Collector Base but now he was going to settle it. "Take a look inside my head, Shadow Broker. If there's anything wrong with it, feel free to dump my corpse at Cerberus' door, again."

The asari's eyes flashed, "Why would I meld with a Cerberus drone?"

"Perhaps I really am Shepard and I'm asking Liara for her help?" Shepard didn't think pleading would really work. He had tried that on Illium and the obsessed asari had refused, he needed more bait on the lure. "Maybe Miranda let a few things slip during pillow-talk, or could it simply be the Shadow Broker painfully crushing the life out of someone who betrayed her. There's three reasons, pick one." Shepard moved his hand towards the asari and left it resting against the table, palm up.

The asari's hand came down onto the Spectre's as her eyelids fluttered close, when they re-opened her eyes where a solid black. "Embrace eternity."

Ashley and Feron shared a look for a second before going back to scanning the room. The Liara and Shepard show had drawn a lot of attention from the other diners in the restaurant, but the hard eyed stares from the newly minted Spectre and the drell bodyguard soon discouraged any further overt observation.

* * *

Liara had been inside his mind a few times during their time together. The times when they had struggled to understand the Prothean warning had been uncomfortable for them both. But that had probably been a side effect of the Prothean communication, because the time before Ilos and then the joining right after saving the Citadel and all the following occasions until Alchera had been anything but unpleasant. This time was nothing like any of those previous encounters, the Liara that burst into his consciousness was not the shy archaeologist from three years ago. That Liara had been fascinated but delicate, the Shadow Broker was still fascinated but she was like a whirlwind. Seemingly random snippets of his memories where ripped up, his first childhood dreams of becoming a doctor like his father, his parent's divorce, Matriarch Benezia's death on Noveria, Richard Jenkins being cut down by geth drones on Eden Prime, mediating between Legion and Tali. It was bewildering and left Shepard scrambled to hold his memories together, he wasn't sure if Liara's disregard meant he had nothing to fear, or just that the Shadow Broker didn't care what damage she inflicted on the Spectre.

The rampage slowed, seemingly in response to his fear.

More memories where dredged up, time spent in various training camps, his first day aboard the Normandy, meeting Garrus before his initial audience before the Council, the first time he had seen Liara, his argument with Ash about whether Liara could be trusted. The night before Ilos and then a whole series of memories of time spent alone with Liara.

* * *

A slight movement by Liara and Shepard caught Ashley's attention. It was if the two of them had suddenly found their chairs uncomfortable, at exactly the same time. The younger Spectre gave them a closer look, Shepard's breathing was starting to hitch unusually, whilst Liara's lips had parted and her breath had grown heavier. A quick glance down at their enjoined hands showed another change. Liara's hand no longer pinned Shepard to the table instead the two of them where, well the most apt word Ashley could think of was 'caressing'. The marine leaned forward and softly hissed, "Feron and me are not here to watch the two of you have weird asari head sex, either act like professionals or go and get a room, somewhere private."

* * *

The memories changed again, the speed increasing until they where almost snap-shots; the first meeting on Illium, Liara's coldness, her fanaticism about destroying the Shadow Broker. Then their second meeting, delivering the information about the Shadow Broker, the hope blossoming in Liara's eyes when she realised Feron was still alive. Miranda Lawson, her face smiling down at him, the concern in her eyes when he first woke up, snippets of conversations in her quarters, rescuing her sister, Miranda's taste on his lips. The Shadow Broker's ship, Liara's suppressed tears when they found Feron, the Shadow Broker's taunts and then the moment Shepard thought his heart stopped as Miranda lay motionless under the wreckage of the Yahg's desk. Their shared anger.

* * *

"Oh this can't be good." The sound of Spectre Williams' voice drew Feron's attention away from scanning the room. A quick glance at the human female directed him towards what had captured her gaze. Liara's mouth had tightened into a single furious line, the drell wasn't as familiar with Shepard but he didn't believe the expression on the human's could accurately be called a smile.

* * *

The new whirlwind dwarfed its forerunner. The Normandy's flight through the Omega 4 relay was a blink, their battle through the Collector Base, another. The garrulous Drone almost killed them. Jack saved them. Jack collapsed. Miranda disagreed. Miranda's choice. Jack's final words.

Shepard tore himself from the chaos. He had never intended to share those three words – they where too poisonous, too toxic to be handled – they couldn't be true.

The escape from the Collector Base and the events in Bahak sped by, nearly unheeded by the human. His decision to run to Liara, his trust in her despite their issues, sapped the momentum from the Shadow Broker's storm. The events on Liara's ship where replayed, his escape attempt from the Alliance marines, Liara's intervention foiling it. But this time the anger that had always accompanied the recollection was gone.

* * *

Shepard's awareness slowly expanded, he could feel Liara's hand resting atop his, he dimly heard the chatter of the other diners in the restaurant, his vision started to clear.

"I'm sorry." Shepard wasn't sure if Liara actually spoke the words aloud or if it was a thought the asari shared through the meld. The outside world fell away again.

* * *

There was a strange feeling of pressure and then light bloomed as secondary explosions erupted amongst the shattered wreckage of the Normandy…Miranda moved away, flustered after that first kiss – the pressure increased…He reached blindly behind him, if he could just get his omni-tool close enough to repair the damaged air line…The engine room was deserted, "Miranda?" he called out as his head felt as if it were trapped in a vice…If he could just locate the leak before…The kiss was incredible, she tasted incredible. Miranda stepped back against the engine console with a smug smile and he couldn't breathe as her hand moved up to undo…There wasn't any air, he couldn't find the leak. Ahead of him he could see fragments of the Normandy starting to glow as they entered Alchera's atmosphere. His limbs started flailing as if their movement could generate air or fight off this strange pressure that had trapped him in the vacuum of space. He didn't want to die, but he did anyway –painfully– as the debris of the Normandy whirled around him.

* * *

This time the world returned in a rush. The sights, sounds and smells of the restaurant crashed against a man who had just died in cold vacuum. Shepard twitched and jerked his hand free of Liara's as the asari stared back at him. The commander swallowed and just breathed for a moment, before asking, "What happened, that wasn't a memory. I _never_ remembered…" Shepard realised his hands where trembling and clasped them together, "…and why did it keep switching between _that_ and Miranda?"

The asari gave a pained smile, "You had suppressed the memory, buried it deep within your subconscious and then did your best to forget it ever existed." The Shadow Broker turned and thankfully took the glass of water Feron had brought her. The drell stood by her side as she sipped before continuing. "As for why it kept changing, that was you trying to resist. You didn't want to remember," Liara paused, "you didn't want to remember dying, so you tried to escape into a memory more…life affirming." The Shadow Broker's eyes narrowed, "Though why you thought the memory of your tryst with _her_ would dissuade me, I do not know. It was almost as if you where deliberately goading me."

Shepard took a deliberate sip of his tea to avoid giving a response, he was unsure whether settling the doubts was worth having to experience dying. He should have just trusted Miranda – he had trusted Miranda until the Collector Base. But the success of the Lazarus Project, his resurrection, was still a difficult concept to accept and the Spectre suspected that he never really would.

"Shepard, Brooks, Normandy," Williams reminded her fellow Spectre.

"Right," Shepard tried to put the recollection of his death aside. He started again, "Right, the other reason I asked you here is for information." Shepard hoped the Shadow Broker didn't notice his slip, "I need to know what…" the Spectre's voice trailed off as the drell standing at Liara's side stiffened and started turning his head towards the window that overlooked the busy street outside. Feron never completed his turn. One second the restaurant was a busy social setting, in the next it had become an abattoir. The diners and staff of the restaurant scythed down by lethal shards from the exploding window that had separated the restaurant patrons from the broad boulevard outside.

Shepard was on the floor, he could feel the sting of cuts across his face and torso. When the Spectre tried to move, his right arm refused to co-operate. Instead he turned his head, scanning his surroundings. The table he had been sitting at had been blown over by the explosion, blocking his view of Ashley, even with the dozens of holes ripped through it by the hardened, translucent polymers of the window. Nearby lay the corpse of Liara's drell companion, the same shrapnel that had torn through the table had passed through Feron first. Next to the drell lay an unmoving Liara, in a pool of red drell blood that surrounded them both. A pool slowly growing darker as more of the asari's own deep blue blood seeped out.

"Ash," Shepard called out, "Chief Williams." There was no response. He tried again as he crawled over to Liara, "Chief Williams, you hurt?" This time the Spectre thought he heard a faint reply, "Hold on Ash, Liara's down. I'm checking her and calling in the medics. Be right with you." Shepard reached Liara and tried reaching for his omni-tool, but his right arm still refused to move. The injured man swore and checked the asari for a pulse with his uninjured left hand; it was faint but still present. Shepard's head dipped in relief as he moved his hand back to tap at his comm-piece, "Citadel Security, this is Spectre Shepard. There's been an explosion; I need C-Sec and medics at my location, now." The Spectre looked at the carnage spread across the sushi restaurant and added, "A lot of medics. I'll leave this channel open, just get here fast." Shepard ignored the startled response of the C-Sec communications officer as he heard the crunch of booted feet entering the devastated restaurant.

"This one?" asked the unmistakable flange of a turian voice, the speaker was hidden by the combination of the restaurant's layout and Shepard's prone position.

"Too old," the second out-of-sight speaker was also turian, "go check over there and hurry. C-Sec's response time for this sector is under eight minutes."

"Cepha is monitoring C-Sec communications so relax; he'll warn us when C-Sec reacts." The first turian sounded unconcerned, "Let's just find that blue-skinned bitch's corpse so we can get our confirmation and collect on that bounty."

Shepard was reaching for his gun before remembering he had left it affixed to the underside of the table behind him. The Spectre doubted he could crawl there and back before the approaching speaker would spot him. Instead he hurriedly searched Feron's shredded corpse. Shepard doubted Liara would be carrying a firearm, C-Sec restrictions on civilians carrying weapons where well-known; besides with her biotics the asari was deadly enough. The pistol Shepard found on the dead drell was surprisingly bulky, reminding the Spectre of an old Earth style revolver, and felt unwieldy when held in just his left hand. Shepard moved himself into a better position as the boot-steps grew closer and toggled the weapon's power switch.

The approaching steps halted as Shepard's new pistol activated. "Kasen did you hear something?" asked the turian who claimed to know the response time of Citadel Security.

"Just find the Shadow Broker's newest favourite," Kasen replied from further away, "and hurry up. Cepha is saying C-Sec are coming, fast."

The unnamed turian cursed and resumed walking, his pace swifter now. Shepard aimed his weapon at the spot where he expected the turian to appear and had a second to settle his doubts over what he was going to do. The unnamed turian stepped into sight and the Spectre fired. The recoil was even worse than that of the famous Carnifex, the weapon fought to tear itself out of the Spectre's hand and completely threw his aim for the intended follow-up shot. A shot that was unneeded in this case, the turian lacked even civilian-grade kinetic shielding and the cheap street clothing he wore offered no more resistance than his own skin. The hapless turian's chest was pierced in several spots, as if hit by the blast from a shotgun instead of a cumbersome pistol's single round. The Spectre's victim fell to the ground, twitching as the turian struggled to comprehend what had just happened and his vital organs fought a desperate rear-guard action to keep him alive. Kasen called out to his partner, before falling silent as Shepard responded.

"Your friend's dying Kasen," the Spectre kept his voice hard. "Painfully and not too quickly," Shepard could see the look of increased panic in the downed turian's young eyes at his words and had to look away, "You don't want to end the same way, better run and hand yourself over to C-Sec." There was no response from the other turian, "Think fast Kasen, you already know C-Sec are on their way." Shepard let his weapon rest on the ground beside him as he wiped away some of the blood trickling from his forehead towards his eyes and impatiently waited for the turian's decision.

"We're just here for an asari," Kasen called out, "she works for the Shadow Broker. Just let me get the proof she's dead and we can go our separate ways." Shepard couldn't tell if the turian's voice was getting closer or further away as Kasen continued. "Or maybe you could get the proof for me," Kasen offered, "Lotte's not going to need his share anymore is he? Just tell me your name and we can meet up later, C-Sec won't suspect anyone who was in here and injured." The turian was getting closer, "They'll let you go; you're just some guy who was eating a meal right? Nothing to do with all this; it's easy money."

"Shepard, my name is Shepard, Kasen." The pistol was back in the Spectre's hand, "You just tried to kill a Council Spectre. The only way you're going to live long enough to see the end of the week is if you _run _to C-Sec and answer every, single, one, of their questions. Voluntarily. Otherwise you'll answer mine – and Kasen – Liara T'Soni is my friend, who you're trying to kill, think on it."

"Spirits and Ancestors," Kasen moaned. Shepard could here the turian swiftly back-stepping, "I'm gone Spectre. You won't ever see me again, I swear it. I'm sorry; it was all Lotte's fault." The words where running out of the would-be assassin's mouth, "I told him blowing up the restaurant was a bad idea, but he wouldn't listen. I didn't even know what he was going to do till it was too late…I…" The voice cut off as the turian reached the boulevard outside, turned and sprinted away.

"Ash," the pistol was too bulky to holster in a pocket or tuck into a waistband, so it clattered to the ground as Shepard rose and called out to his fellow Spectre. "Damn it marine, answer me!" The Spectre yelled as he moved towards the kitchen. The open plan layout of the restaurant allowed the diner's to watch the chefs prepare their meals and the former commander hoped it would also contain the mandatory emergency supplies he needed. "Williams," he bellowed, more as a way to vent his emotions rather than in expectation of a response. Plates where swept from a counter, as the Spectre climbed over it to reach the kitchen, they landed on the still corpse of one of the serving staff.

A hurried search of the kitchen yielded the bright, almost fluorescent, green box that held the restaurant's inventory of medi-gel, as well as the bodies of the kitchen staff. More of the spilled food on the counter was mashed into his clothes as Shepard clambered back over the counter, more awkwardly now as he held the precious box tight in his left hand and his right arm remained a dead weight at his side. The cumbersome pistol he had used on the turian was slid along the floor towards Liara and Feron by his foot as he made his way back to the table, then stepped around it to search for the missing chief.

Ashley Williams lay in a crumpled heap, behind the overturned table. She bled lightly from a dozen wounds where the deadly shards of the restaurant's large window front had pierced her and her head rested at an unnatural angle on the ground. A swift check revealed her pulse and breathing where still good. Shepard carefully pulled the lower hem of the wounded marine's tunic upwards –exposing an incredibly toned midriff– then drew a trauma pad from the supply box, affixed it to the bared skin and thumbed the activation tab. It took a second for the small blue light on the back of the palm-sized medical device to start blinking, telling the Spectre that the highly-concentrated medi-gel it contained had started going to work to stabilise the injured marine. "Hold in there Ash," Shepard whispered reassuringly, "help's coming." The Survivor of Akuze moved away, he had done what he could for the unconscious marine and Liara still needed help.

Less than a half dozen steps brought the Spectre back to the wounded Shadow Broker before Shepard dropped to his knees in the much darker pool of blood that surrounded her. A trauma pad was hastily placed against the asari's neck and Shepard's breath felt trapped in his chest as he waited. The light blinked blue and then blinked yellow, blue and then yellow. It was a steady, repetitive pattern – the pattern that the Sirta Foundation pre-programmed into every trauma pad. Shepard looked away from the lying pattern of flashes and fumbled open the fastenings of the asari's top. Another trauma pad was applied to her torso, activated – and the same pattern flashed accusingly at him.

Shepard moved until he loomed over Liara and his good hand came to rest against the asari's chest. Then he moved his hand downwards until it rested against her abdomen as he remembered an asari's heart was located lower than its human counter-part. Shepard started compressions, a basic CPR technique that had been taught for centuries and a technique that required the use of two hands for it to be effective, whilst Shepard only had the use of one. He wouldn't last long, Shepard knew, he didn't have to. Just till the medics arrived or maybe the medi-gel could be deceived into thinking the massaging of Liara's heart was a pulse and would deploy itself. Shepard wasn't going to stop, to let Liara go. He couldn't stop.

The Citadel paramedics put the wounded marine and asari on the first shuttle out. Shepard went on the third. By the time the paramedics left, they had evacuated eighteen wounded; leaving C-Sec with over two dozen bodies, including a young un-identified turian with a shotgun blast to his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay in updating (again) - I'm going to try and aim for an update every four weeks for future instalments.

* * *

**Huerta Memorial Hospital, Citadel Space Station**

The sling tying the man's right arm to his chest felt heavy, pulling the Spectre forward and leaving his head bowed. Shepard stared at the floor. It was an off-colour white, made from some non-porous material and created a squeaking noise when the Spectre tried to slide his shoe across it. The Spectre's head lifted, across from him was a large window giving a breath-taking view of the Citadel Presidium. Above him passed an almost unending procession of sky-cars carrying people too and fro, directly beneath him was one of the numerous lakes that dotted the middle of the Presidium Ring and stretched out on either side of the lake was some of the most valuable and desired architecture in the known galaxy. To work on the Presidium was seen as a great privilege, an achievement. It meant that you where important, exceptionally skilled and countless beings across dozens of races all strived for that acknowledgment. Those few that actually resided on the Presidium where seen as the most powerful and influential beings in the galaxy, to actually live in the very heart…

Shepard flinched at the thought, his eyes dropping back down but this time they stared at his left hand. The dark blue-purple asari blood had dried against his skin, cracking and flaking as the Spectre's hand sub-consciously twitched, the flakes drifted down to the floor. Shepard gaze returned to stare at the floor. It was an off-colour white, made from some non-porous material and when the Spectre tried to slide his foot across it, there was a loud squeaking noise. Time passed, the cycle fuzzily repeating until it was interrupted by someone sitting down in the chair next to the injured man.

"Shepard, you look unwell," Thane Krios observed. "Are you awaiting further medical treatment?"

The Spectre's head shot back up to look at the drell assassin whose marksmanship and biotic prowess had seen him through the desperate battle on the Collector Base six months ago. The friend whose only son Shepard had asked to stand watch outside the Ryuusei restaurant. "Thane, I'm sorry. I hadn't realised Kolyat was among the injured," Shepard tried to apologise.

"My son is unharmed Shepard," Thane informed the Spectre. "His observation point for your meeting was safely remote from the explosion," the fingers on the assassin's left hand started to spasm and the drell smoothly moved his right hand over to cover them. "In fact he followed one of the turians responsible for the bombing back to his accommodation," there was an unmistakable pride in Thane's voice as he discussed his son, "Citadel Security where grateful for the information."

For a moment Shepard fantasied about marching into C-Sec Headquarters, invoking his Spectre authority and then putting a bullet through the murderous turian's head. The moment passed. "How many people did C-Sec arrest?" the Spectre asked, "the two in the restaurant mentioned a third person, someone named Cepha."

"My son saw only the turian he had traced arrested by Citadel Security," the drell told Shepard. "There was no-one else in the apartment."

"You've spent time on the Citadel," the Spectre recalled. "You ever hear of this Cepha? Probably working as a hacker or splicer, his friends seemed to think he could monitor C-Sec channels."

The drell was silent for a moment, leaving Shepard to wonder if the retired assassin had fallen victim to a bout of solipsism, an ever-present threat with Thane's vividly perfect recollection of the events of his life. "No, I never met anyone who went by that name," the drell sounded apologetic, "but I have not worked on the Citadel for some time. Kolyat might know of this person." Thane separated his hands and rested them on his knees, the spasms of his left hand had ceased.

"She died," Shepard told Thane.

The drell former assassin remained silent.

"Liara, she was dead," the Spectre's stained hand was an accusation that filled Shepard's vision. "I took too long getting the medi-gel. By the time I got back to her, her heart had stopped. The trauma pads wouldn't activate." Shepard wrestled his head up. Tearing his gaze away and instead sending it spiralling out the window, across the manicured cleanliness of the Presidium. "Blue and yellow, 'ready to deploy' in the instructions," Shepard's voice turned ugly, "I suppose they can't put 'She's dead, Jean' in the manual; might upset the public." The room fell silent again.

"She _was_ dead," Thane observed, "an un-usual choice of words, Shepard. I know of very few people who have recovered from death."

"A medic used their omni-tool to over-ride the trauma packs programming. A few commands entered into an omni-tool and the medi-gel went to work, they resuscitated her on the shuttle." Shepard's gaze was pulled back to his bloody hand, "They're unsure about her prognosis, there might be neurological damage."

"The staff here are among the best I have experienced," Thane reassured Shepard, "If there is anything that can be done for your friend. It will be best done so here."

"Thank you," Shepard replied. The two men lapsed into silence. Then Shepard spoke again, "About Kolyat, Thane I'm sorry…"

"My son chose to help you Shepard," the drell interjected, "the path he has chosen for his life is a good one. Better than the one he faced had you and Commander Bailey not intervened."

Shepard's head nodded at the drell's absolution and slid his hand into a jacket pocket, before bringing it back out, holding a pistol. "I have a favour to ask," the gun rested on the palm of the Spectre's hand, "could you give this to my friend? When she gets better; she's vulnerable right now, she needs protecting." Shepard's hand – and the gun – hung between the Spectre and the assassin.

"Shepard, I am not as…capable, as when we met," Thane objected.

"You're more capable than she is right now," Shepard responded, "C-Sec will do most of the work, I'm just asking you to check their blind-spots occasionally – just in case."

Thane took the gun.

"Thank you," Shepard dug out some spare thermal clips and handed them over. "As soon as I can I'll send help, Garrus –if I can find him– or a human called Ashley Williams. Only those two, if anyone else shows claiming I sent them, don't let them anywhere near her."

The small Paladin pistol disappeared into the assassin's coat, "What about C-Sec?"

"I'll talk to Bailey, let him know and then the two of you can work something out." The Spectre pulled himself out of the hospital chair, "I should go do that now, then get aboard the Normandy, get underway."

"Shepard," Thane's dry voice halted the Spectre's walk towards the exit. "You never told me your friend's full name, or why she needs my protection."

"T'Soni, Liara T'Soni she's an asari," Shepard's back was a shield from the drell's gaze, "She's the representative the Shadow Broker sent to meet with me. Just keep her safe Thane, please."

"The Shadow Broker," Thane's voice was too calm to be apprehensive, "is a powerful individual Shepard. Surely they would provide protection for their agent."

"Garrus Vakarian or Ashley Williams, Thane – nobody else," Shepard resumed walking. "The Shadow Broker doesn't get her back, Cerberus doesn't get near her and the bloody Council don't get her." The Council Spectre paused at the open threshold, "I'm sorry Thane – I know it's a lot to ask, just do what you can." The door slid shut.

* * *

**High Security Dock, Citadel Space Station**

Shepard leaned against the catwalk railing, listening to the approaching foot-steps and looked down. Below him a small group of uniformed Alliance personnel moved hurriedly to transfer equipment and supplies from the Citadel dock into the Normandy. A task made more difficult by their lack of numbers. The Normandy had only a skeleton crew aboard, a crew composed of the surviving specialists who had been overseeing the yard work – and whatever personnel Admiral Anderson had been able to scrounge together. The foot-steps finally stopped and Shepard looked up.

Staff Commander Maya Brooks was shorter than he had expected from the woman the media had dubbed 'The Hero of Elysium' – younger looking too. But the dress blues with the polished commander stripes and an extensive row of awards clearly identified the woman – she was the galaxy's sole living recipient of the Star of Terra. Shepard could see the woman's eyes making a calm, steady appraisal of him: Taking in the too heavy stubble on his jaw, the cheap nondescript clothing and the sling supporting his right arm, Shepard wondered what the other Alliance officer thought whilst she stood there.

The Spectre pushed himself off of the railing and turned to fully face the officer that parliament had chosen to replace him as the Normandy's captain. Shepard quashed down on the anger and hurt pride bubbling inside of him and summoned a smile. "Commander Brooks, congratulations on your first command," the Spectre held out his left hand, "sorry I missed your arrival aboard."

There was a heart-beats pause, before the Alliance Officer's hand stretched out and joined Shepard's. "Thank you Spectre Shepard," there was a slight emphasis on the title, "I am sorry to hear about Chief Williams, is there any news?"

The Spectre dropped his smile, "Spinal damage but the doctors are optimistic she'll make a full recovery." Shepard and the commander reclaimed their hands as he continued, "It will just take time and several surgeries."

"That's good to hear," Brooks' voice genuinely warmed at the news, "She deserves better than being crippled in some Citadel thug's bombing. People like Chief Williams make the Alliance special, make the Alliance great."

Shepard gave a polite smile, his feelings about the Systems Alliance where too conflicted to share Brooks' enthusiasm. Instead he tilted his head towards the busy cargo level below and asked, "How long do you think it will take to finish the loading the supplies?"

The Normandy's new captain lips quirked in a way that was so reminiscent of Miranda, that Shepard wasn't sure if he had started to flush. "The supplies were finished a while back," there was a smile ghosting over Brooks' mouth. "That," the commander echoed Shepard's earlier head tilt, "is all the equipment and parts my crew and I am going to have to install en-route."

Shepard felt a flare of annoyance at Brooks' reminder of her new position and keenly felt his own now-nebulous existence in the Alliance military. "Looks like you'll be busy then," the Spectre remarked, "I'm glad you could find the time to welcome me aboard. I had best get my personal effects stowed and let you carry on." Shepard lifted the kit bag he had been carrying earlier it was only half full of clothing with some medication for his shoulder from the hospital and stood waiting for Brooks.

The commander turned and gestured for Shepard to walk alongside her, unconsciously the two officers fell into step as they made their way to the port-side airlock. "I've already arranged for you to have the upper cabin," Brooks informed the Spectre, "I believe the yard-hands called it 'the loft' and stored my effects in the cabin on the crew deck. I'm more familiar with smaller quarters, plus it isn't as removed from the crew." The Alliance Officer gave a small shake of her head as the airlock's outer hatch slid shut behind them, "Cerberus had some 'interesting' design philosophies when they built this ship." The inner hatch hissed open and the two stepped into the Normandy proper. "The captain's cabin was isolated from the rest of the crew on its own individual deck," Shepard and Brooks marched through the CIC, "the armoury was a full two decks removed from the shuttle bay and two bars with large external windows!" The smile that had ghosted Brooks' mouth earlier was back, "Where they trying to build a warship or a flying gin-palace, I wonder."

"We managed to make it work," Shepard pointed out as they waited for the elevator, "we also took down a ship that would have destroyed any cruiser in the fleet as well."

"With turian designed weaponry," Brooks objected, "if those had been equipped on any of the ships that went missing during the Collector's abductions. I'm sure they would have done as well as you."

"Thanks," Shepard said dryly whilst stepping into the waiting elevator. "I think I remember the way from here. I don't want to keep you any further," Shepard's diplomat smile was firmly attached.

Brooks blinked in surprise, "Well if you have any questions I'm sure the ship's VI can help you," she said. "I'll arrange for some-one to provide any help you need till your arm recovers, as well." The commander stepped back, "Welcome aboard, Spectre."

The elevator doors slid shut, saving Shepard from having to respond. "Thank you EDI," the tired Spectre spoke to the empty compartment, "Deck one, please."

"Of course Shepard," the AI responded, "Jeff and I are both glad to see you aboard."

The elevator was as smooth –and as slow– as it had been since its installation, "How are you and Joker?" Shepard enquired.

"Jeff is…upset…over the recent changes aboard," EDI reported. "I believe he would like to discuss them further when you have the opportunity to do so. I am operating at optimal capacity; the Alliance retro-fits have not adversely impacted my capabilities."

"Tell Joker that I'll see him later," Shepard asked EDI as the elevator stopped, "I've got a couple of other things I need to do before we leave the Citadel."

The AI acceded to Shepard's request and then closed the communication channel, without EDI's voice the small passageway that separated the elevator from the Spectre's quarters seemed emptier. Shepard moved on, entering his cabin, the Alliance retro-fit hadn't made any serious alterations to the room. It was still divided into two partitions the office area and past that, down a couple of steps a living space. The furniture was the same, the same expansive bed, the same low comfortable corner couch wrapped around a coffee table, the same desk – albeit with a new bulkier Alliance console in place of the slim Cerberus model. But it wasn't the room he had left six months ago, the ship models that had reminded him of his father where gone, the 'fish tank' remained but its colourful inhabitants had vanished along with Boo's hamster cage. Shepard mused whether Boo and his fish had endured as many Alliance interrogations as himself before they had been released and his mother had…

The kit-bag escaped from Shepard's suddenly nerve-less fingers, hitting the deck with a thump. Despair came oozing back from the recesses where the Spectre had driven it earlier, the earlier anger and sense of professionalism were exhausted. Shepard stood motionless and alone, a guest aboard a Systems Alliance warship. In a cabin that had been stripped of any sign of personality and which was now the closest thing he had to a home – and finally the tears rolled down his face.

Shepard didn't know how long he just stood there, almost as if by remaining motionless he was invisible, as if by staying standing he still had some element of control. Eventually the tears stopped, more threatened to follow, but the Spectre finally wrestled his emotions back into line. Water hissed from the tap as Shepard cleaned his face, the cold water clearing his reddened eyes and removing the tear tracks that ran down across his cheeks. The mucous mess that was the stubble below his nose and around his mouth was tidied then Shepard paused, staring at his reflection and came to a decision. The Spectre marched out of the head and tore through his kit-bag, searching for his razor.

* * *

**Space Vehicle Normandy, Citadel Docks**

Shepard closed down his console, stretched his numb legs and then tried to roll his right shoulder to ease the discomfort there. A painful, pulling sensation stole the Spectre's breath and he gingerly let his shoulder rest. The doctors at Huerta Memorial hospital had insisted he wear the sling and not use his right arm for at least a week, allowing the tissue regenerator shots to repair the shrapnel damage from the bombing.

"Commander Shepard, report to the infirmary – Immediately." Doctor Karin Chakwas' voice sounded over the ship's communication system. The message repeated and was followed by a chime at the door, as someone requested access.

Shepard stood, moved to the hatch and toggled it open. A young specialist stood there, looking uncomfortable.

"Erm, Commander Shepard? I was sent to…" the young woman started nervously.

"…take me to the infirmary?" Shepard gently finished the sentence for her. The Spectre smiled, "I guess Chakwas isn't going to let me duck out of this."

"Erm, actually Commander Brooks sent me," the specialist hurried on, "she wants to talk to you in the CIC," she hesitated before adding, "Sir?"

Shepard felt his smile turn brittle, "Well as you just heard I have a medical issue to see to first. Brooks will have to wait." The Spectre stepped out of his cabin and headed towards the elevator, the specialist followed.

"The commander was pretty insistent, sir." The specialist suddenly stopped, "I mean Spectre, sir – Shit!"

Shepard stepped into the elevator and turned back to grin at the flustered young woman. "Let me guess, Brooks has ordered you to not call me 'sir' because my commission is suspended."

The specialist's head nodded.

Shepard moved his head as invitation and the young woman stepped into the elevator. "How about we stop by the CIC first," the Spectre's hand tapped a button on the elevator panel and he turned back to continue talking. "I'll explain to Brooks I have to see the doctor first and ask her to re-schedule; reasonable enough?"

"Thank you, s…" she paused, unsure and horribly aware of her confusion.

"Shepard is fine – it is my name after all," the Spectre's grin dimmed as he remembered it was only _his_ name now and changed the topic, "Haven't we met?"

"Only briefly, I was aboard when Cerberus attacked the dock-yard. I'm surprised you remember me – it was only for a moment. I'm Samantha Traynor, communications systems specialist."

"Well you have a very lovely and distinctive voice, Traynor. I'm sorry to have forgotten your name, can you ever forgive me?" The grin was back at full force.

Specialist Samantha Traynor tapped her fore-finger against her lips against her lips twice and then smiled impishly. "Well since you said I have a nice voice – yes," she mock-scowled at the Spectre then continued, "Just don't do it again, understood?" The elevator stopped and the door opened. "Wait a moment this isn't the CIC," Traynor objected.

"Isn't it?" Shepard stepped out of the elevator and looked around, "You're right this is the crew deck, how did we end up here?" The look of wide-eyed innocence on the Spectre's face was so patently feigned Traynor couldn't resist smiling. "Whoops," Shepard continued, "Well since we're already here we might as well go see the doctor eh?"

Samantha Traynor found herself helplessly following the Spectre into the infirmary that occupied the starboard side of the crew deck. "I should really report this in, Shepard," she protested half-heartedly, "the Commander will be waiting."

"Well Commander Brooks will have to either keep waiting or find something else to do," Doctor Karen Chakwas noted whilst shooting a disapproving glare at the Spectre, "and I'll let her know Shepard is getting medical treatment. I suggest that you should get back to your duties, _Specialist_."

Traynor knew a dismissal when she heard one and hurriedly left.

"You," Chakwas' finger was pointed dangerously at the Spectre. "Cot," the finger pointed at a nearby bed, "Now."

Shepard walked over to the cot Chakwas had indicated, behind him he could hear the doctor murmuring –talking to Brooks over a private channel– before she followed. "Sit still and don't move, understood?" the doctor walked past Shepard and a second later he heard the quiet hum of a medical scanner working behind him.

"So doctor how have…" Shepard started to ask.

"Shepard, my instructions included your mouth. Now don't move," Chakwas sounded more upset than angry. The infirmary fell almost silent, only the quiet hum of the medical scanner could be heard over the background noise of an active starship. Finally the scanner finished and Doctor Chakwas moved around to stand in front of the seated Spectre. "When was the last time you drank something?" the doctor asked.

Shepard paused before replying, "The nurse at Huerta Memorial gave me something before sticking the tissue regeneration meds in my shoulder. How long ago was that?"

"You came aboard nearly five hours ago Shepard," Chakwas noted as she moved over to a cabinet and removed something. "Commander you _know_ you have to stay well hydrated when you're on Kathimax. It's not as if you've never been on it before."

"Oh," Shepard realised his mistake. "I must have lost track of time somehow," even to the Spectre's own ears that was a weak excuse.

"Obviously," Chakwas handed the commander a large glass of water, the contents still spinning slightly and a mixing spoon rested against the rim, "Drink this," she ordered.

The Spectre knew better than to comment at the oddly unpleasant taste of the water, he couldn't prevent a grimace though. A second glass followed immediately afterwards, by the time Shepard had finished a third the faint buzz of euphoria he had been experiencing had faded away.

The hum of the medical scan sounded again and the Spectre could hear Chakwas faintly talking to herself as the scanner ran through its sequence. "Good," the doctor reported, "your results are looking much better. How are you feeling?"

"Better." At the doctor's patient stare Shepard continued, "Clearer, more stable."

Chakwas made a non-committal hum, "Well I'll ask EDI to give you a reminder every couple of hours about your fluid levels." The doctor moved over to her desk, "Just in case you forget again."

"Thank you." Shepard got off the cot, "I had better go see Brooks; anything else?"

"Commander," Chakwas' voice halted the departing man, "it _was_ a mistake, you did just forgot? Only the situation with your mother, Ashley and Liara in hospital plus Brooks' appointment – it would be understandable if _some_ part of you wanted a bit of a boost."

"I just lost track of the time doctor, that's all," Shepard told Chakwas, "a simple mistake." The Spectre opened the hatch, wanting to escape from the infirmary and its concerned resident.

Maya Brooks stood on the other side of the hatch, her hand still outstretched towards the now vanished control and a look of surprise on her face. The commander smoothed her expression and lowered her arm, "I came to see how you where Shepard – and to tell you we're ready to depart, as soon as you give us a destination."

"Chakwas was just confirming the prognosis about my arm," Shepard replied, "seems the staff at Huerta where being a bit conservative in their recommendation."

"That's good to hear Shepard," Brooks held her ground, "can I assume you'll be fit for combat when we arrive at…wherever we're going to?"

"Yes," the Spectre stepped around the alliance officer blocking his way, "when we get to Omega, I'll be fit enough to get shot at – again."

Brooks took a step forward, standing on the threshold of the infirmary and preventing the hatch from closing again. Her head turned, pressing against her left shoulder. "I've arranged a briefing with my senior staff," she called out to the departing Spectre, "you're welcome to attend – if you ask."

Shepard halted, turning back to the Normandy's new commander and becoming aware of the pair of marines sitting around the nearby mess table, "Thank you, I wouldn't miss it," The Spectre smiled and added, "Gives me the opportunity to tell you what we'll be doing whilst we're there."


End file.
